


Growing up Spinelli

by Darkorangecat (Calacious)



Category: General Hospital, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crossover, Father/Son, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Muggles come to Hogwarts, Set during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Spoilers for Harry Potter Books, deaging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 85,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Darkorangecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape has a son, Damien Spinelli of Port Charles. How does Spinelli fit in with the wizarding world? What do he and Harry Potter have in common?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cloaked in Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling does), nor do I own "General Hospital" (created by Frank and Doris Hursley). No characters are my own, I am just writing for the fun of it; not for a profit.
> 
> A/N: This is fiction and combines the world of Port Charles, NY with the world of Harry Potter. It is, by that nature, AU and characters will more than likely be a little OOC. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
> I started writing this in 2008, when I first started writing fanfiction. Maybe, one of these days, I'll finish it.

Spinelli for my intents and purposes is a genius who graduated from high school at an early age and is now 18 or 19. Timeline would be altered as I would simply place the Harry Potter books in the present time, so that 2008 would be year 4, which would mean that Snape would be 34 and Spinelli would have to be 18 (Severus would have been a father at age 16).

We will start off in Port Charles, but the majority of the story will take place in Hogwarts.

Cloaked in Shadows

"The Jackyl will not rest until Maximista vanquishes all thoughts of the Son of Darkness from her mind," Spinelli spoke into the thin air. He was on his way from a meeting with Stone Cold, thinking about his last encounter with Maximista – he had seen her in The Son of Darkness' (Johnny Zaccara) lap a couple of days ago, and so he stood alone on the pier, looking out at the stormy water, his computer clutched protectively in his arms.

Unbeknownst to him, he was currently being watched from the shadows by two men. One dressed in billowy black robes, the other in purple. _The 'Son of Darkness'?_ The man in black wondered, his dark brows creased deep in thought. Whereas the white-haired man in purple silently chuckled, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

They continued to watch the young man as he sat on the edge of the pier, his feet dangling over the edge, "The Jackyl shall have his vengeance. Yes, the Jackyl shall find a way to thwart the Son of Darkness and shall woo the Fair Maximista right from under his nose."

_Who is this Jackyl the boy keeps speaking of?_ The man in black was curious. He continued to watch from the shadows, determined to keep as still and objective as possible, like he was on a reconnaissance mission. He would not, could not consider the possibility that the young man sitting on the pier could possibly be what Albus had excitedly, if a little reluctantly, informed him of just a few blissfully ignorant days ago. He would not even allow such thoughts to enter his mind as he watched the young man, Damian Spinelli, he had been informed by Albus, open the contraption he had been handling like a baby and start moving his long fingers deftly across it.

He sat there for quite a while, the wind whipping his shoulder-length hair about his face. He absentmindedly tucked it behind his ear or brushed thehair from his eyes from time to time. The two cloaked figures continued to watch from the shadows, the one in black narrowing his eyes, intent upon noting every feature of the young man they watched. _Did he have greasy hair? Were his eyes so dark as to be almost black?_

Spinelli really wanted to work out a plan to win over the beautiful Maximista, he truly did not want to make the tragic mistake he had made with her sister, the Wise Georgie who had recently been senselessly murdered before he had learned of her interest in him – he had been blinded by his own unrequited interest in The Blonde One. He could have had a real relationship with her, if only he hadn't been so blind. Sighing, he reluctantly began to work on the assignment that Stone Cold had given him. He would much rather be thinking of how to win Maximista over, but instead, he would be looking into the finances of the Zaccharas. As if that would make any difference in the feud that was going on.

As he typed away, looking for ways to hack into the information that he needed, the sensation that he was being watched stole over him and he quickly looked around. "Just being paranoid," he muttered to himself and continued with his work. A couple of minutes later, when he couldn't shake the feeling, he stood, looking frantically around, willing his nerves to calm and his breathing to return to a normal state as it had started to come out in panicked, almost asthmatic-like, shortness. Tucking his computer under his left arm, he started to make his way toward the steps that would lead him into Mr. Corinthos Sir's father's diner. If nothing else, it would be warmer there and perhaps he could shake that feeling of paranoia that had overcome him. Not that he didn't have a lot to be paranoid about with the kind of work he willingly did for Stone Cold. None of it was strictly speaking, legal.

The men who had been watching him kept to the shadows, muttering nearly silent incantations under their breath that rendered them invisible to the non-practiced eye. Waiting for a half a minute to pass, they followed Spinelli into the warmth and brightness of Kelly's Diner. They hovered in a dark corner near the bathroom and what looked like an entrance to a back hallway. The darkness is what they were after. The man in black watched the young man pensively as he sat at the counter, bantering with an old man who had a hand towel draped across his shoulder and an apron tied around his waist. _What was it they were talking about_ , he strained to hear the conversation, _a blender? What exactly is a blender?_ The curiosity had gotten the better of him and he leaned in, intent upon hearing the conversation and seeing what this 'blender' thing might turn out to be. He was also, if truth be told, slightly impressed that the young man had sensed their presence.

He watched and listened so intent upon finding out what it was that Spinelli had offered to fix, that he nearly gave his position away when a muscular young man, dressed in a black t-shirt and blue jeans emerged from the dark corridor and nearly bumped into him. He pressed himself back just in time, but nearly gave a startled gasp when he looked directly into the man's icy blue eyes. It was almost as though he could see him, but no, that couldn't be, he was thoroughly cloaked. _What held his interest then?_ The man in black turned his head to look behind him and sighed in relief when he realized that the blonde man with the intense stare was looking at a clock on the wall behind him. Albus (the man in purple), also a bit startled, put a hand on his colleague's arm to draw him further back. Though no one else could see either of them, they could see each other and Albus mouthed silently, "Hold still."

_As if I would move._ Severus (the man in black) thought angrily and glared at the man standing next to him, wanting to shake his hand off, but knowing that such an act could give their position away. He had a feeling that if they were discovered by the man who kept staring intently at the clock behind him, things would not go well.

While musing over their predicament and trying not to breathe overly loudly, Severus had forgotten his interest in the young man who sat at the counter, but his dark eyes turned back toward him when said young man eagerly strode over to the man with the piercing blue eyes, some strange shaped glass in his hand, _could that be what a 'blender' is?_

"Stone Cold," he said with a smile on his face.

The man turned around, his cold blue eyes piercing the soft brown ones of Spinelli (Severus could see the color more clearly now) whose smile faltered, but innocently regained its position on the young man's face.

"Did you get the information?" He asked, a little harshly even to Severus' ears.

"Umm…" Spinelli looked at the blender in his hand, "I'm still working on that," he replied softly.

Stone Cold grasped Spinelli's shoulders and it took nearly all of Severus' willpower and Albus' restraining arm on him to keep the man from intervening. He didn't understand his reaction, after all what Albus had told him the other day quite simply could not be true, why should he care what this "Stone Cold" did to someone who was obviously in his employ and had not done his work? Whatever he got would surely serve him right, wouldn't it? He waited to see what the man would do to the boy, fully expecting him to either bodily throw the shy young man out or bring him into the back room where he clearly conducted some sort of business.

What happened instead completely took him by surprise, Spinelli looked directly into Stone Cold's eyes and the man released his hold on him, "I'm sorry Spinelli, it's just that I really need that information." He ran his hands through his hair and looked at the ground almost sheepishly.

"I'm sorry Stone Cold, it's just that I cannot seem to shake the feeling that forces of darkness are impeding my progress through steady surveillance of my every action. The Jackyl senses that he is being stalked."

At this Stone Cold looked up sharply, taking in each and every corner of the room and looking out of the windows, his blue eyes, piercing in their intensity, sent a shiver down Severus' spine when his gaze fell in his direction. Albus' eyes were not as piercing, nor The Dark Lord's. Those eyes had the look of a stone cold murderer in them. Severus wondered how the boy could stand up under that gaze, how he could look the man in the eye and not quake. Spinelli did not strike him as having much of a back bone and he seemed rather _weak_ to Severus.

"Maybe you'd better work at the apartment," he suggested after seemingly satisfying himself that he had made a thorough sweep of the place.

"Sure, after I fix this for Mike," Spinelli smiled and walked back to the counter, working on the blender. Severus noted that he did not leave the contraption he had opened and used back at the pier, even when he had come to talk with Stone Cold. He laid the black contraption on the counter next to him as he worked on the 'blender'.

Stone Cold continued to stare at the clock and intermittently look around the room. He _must be waiting for something to happen,_ Severus surmised. _I wonder what it could be._ The possibilities caused the normally stoic man to shiver in spite of the warmth.

 


	2. Tea and Other Surprises

Severus should have known that the news he was going to hear would not be welcome news the minute that Albus stepped into his home at Spinner's End during what would otherwise have been a rather enjoyable summer away from Hogwarts. The white- haired man was dressed in muggle apparel as Severus lived in a muggle, rather than magical, neighborhood. The ensemble the elder wizard had chosen to wear was comical at best and Severus knew that the old man had done it on purpose. No doubt he wanted to try to bring a little levity to the Potions Master's life. Levity that Severus really did need, but was loath to admit, especially since it was in part due to Albus' requirements of his services that leant itself to Severus' own almost perpetual dour mood. Severus took in the elder wizard's appearance in a disgusted up and downward glance of the man, shaking his head at the orange-green plaid slacks, purple t-shirt, and yellow bowler hat that graced his snowy white head.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure," he nearly choked on the word pleasure, "of your visit during summer holidays Headmaster? Surely the blessed Harry Potter is not in need of some life-saving potion…" he gestured the ridiculously clad Headmaster into his home. The neighbors, who already thought him a freak, would undoubtedly think him even more so now.

"Oh no, nothing like that, Severus," the man spoke jovially, his blue eyes sparkling in delight, "tell me do you have anywhere comfortable that we may sit and have a bit of a chat?"

_A bit of a chat?_ Severus ushered the infuriating man into his sitting room. He gestured toward a lumpy sofa seated under a window and sat down in a tattered brown armchair that had seen better days possibly centuries ago. Stuffing was coming out in places and it looked as though it would much rather be in a rubble heap getting some rest than supporting the weight of the man who sat in it. A scowl firmly in place, Severus drew the armchair to face Albus who sat stiffly on the edge of his sofa, which had also seen better days and, to Severus' disappointment, was covered in a myriad of yellow daisies. He really should invest in some new furniture he thought briefly before he snorted at the notion. What the heck did he, double-spy, need new furniture for? He would be unable to enjoy such mundane pleasures others could easily afford themselves.

"Well, then what brings you here?" Severus cut to the chase, "I was in the middle of planning lessons for the next year." In reality, he had been taking a rare moment to himself, indulging in his hobby of solving some muggle Sudoku puzzles. Something he would be truly embarrassed to be caught indulging in.

There was an awkward moment of silence as Albus transfigured the sofa he sat upon into something more suitable for his tall frame. A, to Severus' chagrin, red and silver striped lounge chair that contrasted with the already bright outfit the man was wearing. The old man then had the audacity

to conjure a service of tea and serve it to himself and Severus, clearly taking the initiative to do something hospitable in the absence of Severus' own hospitality. Severus turned a shade of blotchy red and looked downward at the cup of tea in his hand. The Headmaster continued on as though it were perfectly normal for guest to entertain host.

"I could have served tea," Severus said harshly. Truth be told, he had had no intention of serving tea to Albus and was planning on ushering the man out as soon as possible. He didn't want to waste much of his afternoon in idle chit-chat. He was also slightly weary at the thought that Albus might ask him to do some spying on his former Death-Eater friends after what had happened this past school year. He really did not relish the thought of spending any of his summer with the Malfoys.

"Relax my dear boy," Albus waved him off as he put a scone to his lips and took a bite, "go ahead, help yourself to a scone, they're delicious."

"I hate to sound impatient," though he really felt the opposite, "but as I said, I was in the middle of planning lessons for my fourth years and as I have the unenviable position of having to work with Neville Longbottom again, I really need to take the time to plan these lessons carefully. After all, I'm sure you wouldn't want the entire school to be blown up."

"Don't you think you are being just a bit harsh on young Mr. Longbottom?" The Headmaster asked around the scone in his mouth, "Severus, you really should have one of these scones, they are quite exquisite."

"I just ate my lunch," Severus was starting to lose what little patience, albeit almost nonexistent as it was, that he had and Albus was trying on his nerves.

Putting his second scone down, Albus took a sip of his tea, closed his eyes and indulged in a moment of pure ecstasy. At least that is what it looked like to Severus who took a sip of his own tea, scowling.

"Albus," Severus ground out, preparing to stand and demand that the old man leave.

"Sit down," Albus demanded, not opening his eyes, "drink your tea. Have a scone and indulge in a moment of peace."

Shocked at the command, Severus sat back in his chair and reached for a scone, his mouth gaping in wonder. _What could the old man be here for? It must be a serious matter for him to be so uncharacteristically short with him._

Opening his eyes and seeing that Severus had indeed bitten into a scone and had some tea, Albus smiled and indulged in a second scone, seeming to enjoy the quiet. They sat in companionable, if not a little tense on Severus' part, silence as they finished their tea and scones.

When they had finished, Albus banished the tea service back to wherever he had conjured it from and leaned back in his chair. Getting more impatient by the minute, but knowing that it would do

no good to hurry the man, Severus sat in his own chair with his elbows resting on his knees, and his eyes intently watching the Headmaster who suddenly appeared to be weary beyond words. _What could possibly be the matter?_ Severus wondered. The only other time that he had seen the Headmaster in such a state was when he had relayed what Voldemort had done to the Potters to the wizarding world.

As if sensing the younger man's anxiety, Albus opened up one piercing blue eye and quirked his lips into a half-smile, "Don't worry Severus, it is nothing as terrible as what happened to Lily, James, and Harry less than fourteen years ago. Though, I somehow doubt that you will see it as anything less than terrible."

_Had the old man sounded resigned at the end of that statement?_ Severus wondered at the Headmaster's tone and wearied look. _What was he reluctant to tell him?_

Sitting up suddenly, turning his bright blue eyes on him, Albus spoke, "Severus, do you remember Kathy Spinnaker? "

At the mention of Kathy's name, Severus grew bright red and began to look at his black robes. How did Albus know about Kathy? They had spent a couple of weeks as 'boyfriend and girlfriend' toward the end of their 6th year at Hogwarts and had had one night of awkward 'passion', though in reality it was more a night of folly at best and that been spurred on by a taunting group of Slytherins who had urged him to take advantage of the younger Hufflepuff (she had been fifteen, he sixteen). They had promised to owl each other over summer break and had never fulfilled that promise. As a matter of fact, when Severus had looked for her at Hogwarts in the fall (feeling a prickle of guilt that he had mislead her, even though it had made him feel powerful for a little while – she had, for some reason unknown to him, had a crush on him), he had been unable to find the Hufflepuff.

"Umm….yes, I do," he answered quietly, looking at his hands which he twisted in his lap. Guilt continued to color him a deeper shade of red. He knew that his Slytherin "friends" had intended to humiliate the both of them and he had played along with their plan to humiliate the Hufflepuff because he wanted to try to fit in. It hadn't worked as he had hoped it would; the group had laughed at him when he returned from his first and, only, sexual experience looking all disheveled and feeling rather criminal. Though his friends had told him to take advantage of the girl, he hadn't. They had met each other in a little used corridor (his Slytherin 'buddies' had advised him to bring her to a certain room and when she was unclothed they would burst in on them and have some fun with her) and she had halted him and kissed him hesitantly on the lips. Well, one thing led to another and they ended up, not in the room Severus' housemates had told him to take her to, but in the Room of Requirement and were walking back to their respective houses promising to owl each other that summer. The last time he had seen her was on the train to London, Lily appeared to be comforting her, and as he was surrounded by Slytherins who were laughing and mocking the scene, he had been reluctant to go and ask what was wrong. It would not do to appear to be concerned about a mere Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor associated with the Marauders. Severus regretted that moment of weakness almost as much as he regretted what he had said to Lily earlier that year and his betrayal of her and James that led to their deaths. He was

not a man prone to introspection, nor one to apologize, even when he knew he was wrong, but if he could go back in time, he would make those things right.

Albus watched as Severus got lost in his thoughts and regrets of the past. He knew that Severus was not the statue that he appeared to others to be, but rather a man who felt deeply, even deeper than he chose to admit to himself. He allowed the younger man to experience this rare moment of vulnerability without intruding upon it, knowing that the man would close himself up if he attempted to offer comfort.

When he had somewhat gathered his thoughts together as best he could under the circumstances, Severus cleared his throat and spoke, "How is she?" It came out little more than a hoarse whisper.

"She, unfortunately, passed away several months after she left Hogwarts," and here Albus paused somewhat awkwardly, looking at Severus with a sense of profound loss as though he couldn't find the next words.

"Was it…" Severus paled, "the Dark Lord?"

Albus looked shocked for a moment, then shook his head rather somberly, "No, Severus it wasn't Lord Voldemort. Kathy did not return to Hogwarts after her fifth year because she was pregnant and she died a few days after giving birth to a baby boy. She never told her mother, nor anyone else who the father was and the existence of the child only came to my attention just recently."

"And you felt the need to tell me this because…?" Severus knew that Albus was fishing for answers and was unwilling to let the other man know what had happened between he and Kathy so many years ago. Besides, she could've had relations with someone else during the summer. The child that Albus mentioned might not be his. He would hold onto that possibility for as long as he could.

Albus cleared his throat and leaned closer to Severus, "I think you know why I _feel the need_ to tell you this Severus, but to assuage your curiosity as to how I came upon such private knowledge, I must confess to have overheard the tale of a certain young Slytherin and a certain young Hufflepuff becoming close _friends_ and of the _consummation_ of their _friendship_ in a certain room within Hogwarts. I was, to be honest, a bit rattled and refused to believe the tale at first, but the teller was convincing and upon hearing his testimony, I came to believe that what he said was indeed true. It would appear, my friend, that you are a father."

Severus shook his head and rose from his chair, pacing back and forth, "No, it's not possible. She must've met someone over the summer – "

Here Albus cut him off, "I've already looked into all of the possibilities. Kathy did not have any beaus during her final summer. Her mother and father put a magical protection on the boy, ensuring that he would not be able to perform any magic, even accidental and he was placed with a woman in America who took him in and raised him as her grandson. He goes by the name of Damien Spinelli, no doubt a bastardization of his mother's surname Spinnaker."

Severus stopped his pacing and sunk into the chair, resting his head in his hands, "No, it can't be. I cannot be a father. I never wanted children. I don't want any children now."

"Well, it's a little too late for that," Albus said without remorse, "you have a son and it would appear as though he were in a bit of trouble."

 


	3. Death Takes Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timelines have been altered to fit "General Hospital" which is an ongoing story. Let me know what you think of the story. Spoilers for "General Hospital" episodes in the week of 6-23-08 to 6-25-08 (timeline diverts from that of the show and of course is AU).

"Tell me again how he managed to contract this strange disease," Severus sighed for what Albus would guess was the hundredth time as he paced in the hospital waiting room which was quite unusual for the normally stone-faced potions master. Both wizards had uncloaked themselves on the way to the hospital when Spinelli had been rushed over, applying glamours to themselves to make their appearances fit in with the muggles in the city of Port Charles. Albus had darkened his hair somewhat and decreased his beard. He donned blue jeans and a cream-colored cable knit sweater that made his blue eyes appear even bluer whereas Severus had chosen to appear in black slacks with a long-sleeved forest green button down shirt. He had chosen to sweep his hair back into a ponytail, decreasing some of the greasy appearance it usually had. His appearance seemed to be having the opposite effect of his intentions as many of the females he passed in his pacing turned to look at the broody muscled man two or three times.

"I believe that the pizza he ate had been tampered with," Albus patiently said, silently adding _as I've told you the past other ninety-nine times._

Severus rested his gaze on the well-muscled, long-haired woman who had brought Spinelli home from his pathetic attempt at wooing a woman clearly above his own status. He had imbibed in alcohol and made a fool of himself. It had taken all of Severus' self-control not to reveal himself and take the boy out of the gambling hall. Thankfully this brazen woman had done so and brought him home; making sure that he had gotten nourishment. Though he was using the term nourishment rather loosely in regard to the greasy pizza of which they had partaken.

The next several hours had passed slowly for Severus as both he and Albus had been unwittingly quarantined along with Stone Cold, Vixenella, and Spinelli. Stone Cold, whom the woman had called Jason, had gotten sick, but he quickly recovered. Spinelli, however, after making even more of a fool of himself than Severus would have believed possible until after he had watched the kid in his attempts to heal Jason, had fallen severely ill. Severus had to give the kid credit for his quick thinking to use an extract in attempting to heal Jason and it may have had the desired affects had he not spilled it all over himself in his eagerness.

When Spinelli fell ill, he began to hallucinate, but at one point he spoke as clearly and precisely as Trelawney had spoken one day nearly 13 years ago, prophesying the demise of the Dark Lord at the hands of a small babe. Spinelli had spoken of the demise of someone he called Mr. Sir at the hands of Stone Cold. Severus shivered, if he didn't know better, he would believe that Spinelli had what Trelawney and others called, _The Sight_. Many thought that _The Sight_ was pure rubbish, but Severus knew better and shivered as he remembered the prophecy that had ended everything for him and for a certain boy named Harry Potter. Not wishing to dwell unnecessarily on the past, Severus took up his pacing once again.

"You're gonna burn a hole in the floor you know," Severus glanced up, confused at first as to who had spoken to him.

"You must be worried about someone. Come, sit down," the woman Spinelli called Vixenella took on a motherly tone as she patted the seat next to her, smiling slightly.

"Me? I'm worried about this kid I barely know. Strange, at first I thought of him as an enemy you know? The company he keeps leaves something to be desired," she glanced over at the man who sat across from her and rolled her eyes as the man glared at her. Severus took a deep breath, and despite his instincts that screamed at him to run into the hospital room they had brought Spinelli into and grab the boy, he took a seat next to _Vixenella_.

"The name's Claudia. Claudia Zacchara," she held out her hand to Severus who sat blinking at the proffered hand for a moment, slowly coming to his senses he finally held out his own hand. Chuckling, Claudia gave his hand a firm shake and smiled, "And your name would be?" She prompted.

"Uh, Severus. Severus Snape," he offered with a half smile of his own, completely taken aback at Claudia's forward behavior.

"That's an unusual name. I think my friend, Spinelli, would give you some sort of crazy dark nickname. That's the kind of thing he does. Let's see, he's called me: Daughter of Darkness, um…Simmering Spinstress, and more recently, Vixenella. Out of the three, I think I like Vixenella the best, though Daughter of Darkness does have its merits," Claudia spoke in fondness of the boy she had, until just recently, considered an enemy. Severus was unsure of how to respond.

"You aren't his friend," the man known by Spinelli as, Stone Cold, ground out, "why don't you just leave."

"Right Jason," she addressed the man who glared daggers at her in a light voice, "I'll just leave Spinelli to your cold brand of care," here her voice took on a noticeable edge and she glared daggers back at him.

"Whether you like it or not, I like Spinelli. He is kind, funny, and cares about others in a way you could never begin to understand. And you, being his idol, don't even appreciate him," she nearly spat out as she stood, jabbing a finger in the man's face. Severus feared he would have to pull her away from

the man who sat, true to the nickname Spinelli had given him, cold as stone, but she sat back down in the seat next to him having spent her anger.

"I do appreciate him," Jason barely whispered, a pained look briefly crossed his face before it was gone, replaced by the hard expression that usually greeted others.

Completely ignoring Jason, Claudia turned, much to Severus' discomfort, toward him, "Who's your friend?" She asked, gesturing toward Albus who stood off to the side, near the elevators, a bemused look on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. He had clearly been enjoying watching the display.

"That is my colleague, Albus Dumbledore," Severus inclined his head and gestured for Albus to come over and sit next to him. Thankfully Albus complied and was soon seated, shaking Claudia's offered hand.

"A pleasure to meet you," she smiled, inclining her head as someone from wealth might do, "Claudia Zacchara."

"The pleasure is all mine," Albus replied, bending over her hand and bestowing it with a gentle kiss.

"So, what brings you two to Port Charles' General Hospital?" Claudia asked, noting their accents.

"We are here visiting a sick friend," Albus cleverly supplied.

"Who?" Claudia asked, but any answer that may have been on Albus' lips was interrupted by the shrill chirp of her cell phone which she immediately pulled from her purse and answered, "Hello? Johnny? What's up?" She stood and walked to the elevator, turning as the doors opened to look at Jason, "When you visit Spinelli tell him I will be back to see him," when Jason didn't respond, her eyes narrowed and she jabbed her finger at him, "promise me you will tell him." Jason gave a slight nod and Claudia swept into the elevator, her black hair swirling angrily about her face.

"Jason?" A young blond girl came running up the stairs, apparently not willing to wait for the elevator, "Where is he? Where is Spinelli?"

"Maxie, he's been taken to a room and they are stabilizing him," a young brunette nurse came up to her, "You can visit him when he's been stabilized, but only one of you can go in at a time as his health is still rather fragile."

"Thank you Elizabeth," Maxie said as she took the seat that Claudia had recently abandoned, "What happened?" She turned her big brown eyes toward Jason, pleading for more information.

"He, it was something he ate," Jason faltered, looking at his hands.

"Spinelli has been stabilized, you can go visit him now, but only one at a time," Elizabeth had come back, a smile on her face. Severus wanted to stand, and would have had it not been for Albus' hand on his arm.

"Go ahead Maxie, I know he'd want to see you," Jason looked up at the girl who had already stood and she smiled gratefully as she followed Elizabeth to Spinelli's room, "tell him I'll be in later."

"Okay," Maxie glanced back.

"So, who is this young man to you?" Severus couldn't keep himself from asking the question as he watched the man sit in silence.

"He's my friend," Jason looked into Severus' eyes and he could see the truth in that statement. The man may not give into his emotions much, but Severus could see, in the hours that he had been watching him with Spinelli, that he always spoke the truth to and about the young man.

"How about you? Who are you two here for?" Jason asked.

"Oh, no one you would know," was Albus' nonchalant reply.

"Tell us about your friend," Severus pressed. He was, in spite of himself, eager to know more about the young man that had a nose similar to his own and the same sickly pallor of white, pasty skin that he himself regrettably had.

"Spinelli?" Jason's eyes narrowed as he looked at Severus, judging whether or not he could trust the man with information about his friend. Rubbing a hand over his tired face, he leaned back in his chair, apparently having decided that Severus was trustworthy, "Spinelli is a good friend. He would do anything for anyone, no questions asked. He is loyal to a fault and loves without condition. He sees the best in people who don't have any good in them. He goes out of his way to help others and would never purposefully hurt anyone, even someone who has hurt him," Jason paused, a tortured look on his face, "I am not worthy of his worship of me."

_Oh great, my son is a Hufflepuff,_ Severus thought to himself as he mentally rolled his eyes. Albus had risen and placed a comforting hand on Jason's arm. Jason stiffened and pulled away from the gentle touch. Albus awkwardly returned to his seat next to Severus, casting a spell so that no one would be able to overhear them.

"Here's the plan," Albus leaned into Severus who flinched back at the sudden closeness; Albus ignored this and continued on, "we fake Spinelli's death and bring him back to Spinner's End with us. There you can get to know your son and we can undo the spells that were cast upon him by Kathy's family to keep him from performing any magic. We can enroll him in Hogwarts, despite his age, and he can learn with the 4th years. You and others, myself included of course, would give him personal tutoring sessions to help him achieve at the 4th year level."

"No," Severus sat up stiffly, "he must not know that I am his father. You know the Dark Lord's return is upon us, I will not put my son, as much as I am loathe to claim this Spinelli character as my son, in that kind of danger. He must not know that I am his father."

"Then what shall we tell him?" Albus looked at his potions master in confusion.

"Nothing. Albus, it is obvious that he is cared for by these people. I fail to see the danger he is in here. Why did you bring me here?" Severus looked the Headmaster in the eyes, pleadingly.

"The danger, I'm afraid, is not here," Albus began.

"Then why remove him?" Severus questioned.

"Because, I was not the only one who heard about the birth of a child to one of the Dark Lord's most faithful and powerful servants. I'm afraid, my boy, that Lucius Malfoy also came upon this information. No, he doesn't know it was you," Albus answered before Severus could form the question, "but he is dedicated to finding out, not only the identity of the parents, but of the boy himself. He plans to find the boy, train him in the Dark Arts, and present him to Voldemort upon his return. That, Severus, I'm sure you will agree, cannot happen."

"No, it musn't," Severus' face had turned ashen, "fine, then we bring the boy back with us, but he must believe that both of his parents are dead. We can tell him that his mother was brave and died during childbirth and that his father…" here Severus faltered.

"That his father fought bravely in the war against Lord Voldemort and was killed in battle, if that is how you want it Severus," Albus held up his hand as Severus began to protest, "no, I will not have it any other way, your son will know that you were brave," Albus's lips held a firm determined line as he held Severus' gaze.

"Fine, it's not as if we aren't lying to the boy already," Severus conceded.

"Severus," Albus pleaded, "please reconsider, you are the boy's father after all."

"No, Albus, I am not. He grew up on a different continent and in a different world from my own. I will not allow the darkness that has consumed me to color his life and I will not play the role of his father. Besides, you've watched him and heard what others have said about him, he is nothing like me. He's more like his Hufflepuff mother," he ranted, "he will be better off not knowing me as his father."

"As you wish," Albus removed the spell that had kept their conversation private and turned his smiling eyes toward Jason who had stood to take his turn visiting Spinelli as Maxie returned to the waiting room, a look of concern on her features.

"How is he?" Jason asked, grabbing Maxie's arm.

"Oh Jason, he just has to get better. I don't know what I'd do without him," the pixie-like girl gave the man a tight squeeze that onlookers could tell made him uncomfortable, but that he returned nonetheless.

"Don't worry Maxie, he will. You know he really likes you, don't you?"

"He's a great friend and I told him that Jason. I told him I couldn't lose him as a friend. Do you think that I should've said something else?" Worry creased her forehead.

"No, Maxie, I think that was good. It wouldn't be good to lead him on," Jason smiled, placing a gentle hand on the girl's back before pulling away from the unwanted, yet freely given, embrace.

"Oh, Jason, he doesn't look good at all. I just couldn't bare it if I lost him too. I mean, I just lost Georgie, and I know I'm being selfish, but I just can't lose Spinelli too," tears flowed freely down her face. Digging in her purse she pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. Jason, once again, pulled her into a hug, holding her face to his chest, gently rocking her and whispering words of comfort until her tears ceased.

"Thanks Jason, sorry I kind of had a break-down there, didn't mean to cry all over you like a baby," Maxie's half-giggle broke off in a sob, "you go see him now and tell him that Maxie said he has to get better or else."

"Will do," Jason released her and watched as she made her way to the elevator, unaware of the onlookers who had stopped to gaze at this rare moment. Turning away once Maxie had stepped onto the elevator and the doors had closed, he walked down the hall toward Spinelli's room, steeling himself for what he would see. He trembled with rare fear as he remembered how the young man's eyes had rolled to the back of his head when he had seized and how Spinelli had feverishly predicted the death of Sonny Corinthos by Jason's hand just moments before he and Claudia had to rush him to the hospital.

Shaking his head to clear it of the memories, he walked into the room and was pushed to the side as doctors rushed in to respond to a sudden cardiac arrest. _He should be on that hospital bed, not Spinelli. He should be the one the doctors were working eagerly to save. But it wasn't him; it was sweet, innocent Spinelli who had never harmed anyone, whose life they fought to save._

Jason watched helplessly from a corner of the hospital room as the doctors and nurses worked in vain on Spinelli's failing heart, unaware of the two men who stood veiled at the foot of the young man's bed. One of whom had delivered a poison via the IV attached to him to stop Spinelli's heart. Both men knew that if Jason were to ever find out what they had done, he would not hesitate to tear them apart limb-from-limb. The look of pain and anger that was displayed on his face made Severus' skin crawl. He had to look away.

Severus found he could not watch as the doctors continued to work on Spinelli's lifeless form. He knew that their attempts to revive his son would only fail and he was surprised at how painful it had become for him to watch. Turning away, he walked to the opposite side of the room and waited until the doctor's finally stopped and the incessant whine of the heart monitor was replaced by a resigned, "Time of death, 11:41," and an anguished cry of, "No!" As Jason threw himself upon the boy and pounded his fists on his chest willing him to live.

"Jason," a quiet voice called, "Jason, I'm sorry. Spinelli's gone. Come on now, come with me."

"No, Elizabeth, he can't be gone. He just can't," Jason's voice broke as he finally broke down and cried.

Severus turned to see the young nurse gather the man in her arms and lead him from the room, crooning to him in a soft lilting voice. Glancing at Albus, he saw that tears graced the older man's face as well and was surprised to find his own eyes were welling up with their own betrayal of those damned salty tears. He barely knew the boy, what was this all about? It's not as if the boy were truly dead, though his heart had ceased to beat, Severus had the antidote ready to give him once his body had been brought down to the morgue. Refusing to give his tears release, Severus steeled himself and walked stiffly to the side of the bed, glancing at the body of the boy, no man, that Albus said was his son. Denying the truth that lie directly in front of him, he waited for someone to come and take the boy's body away, label him _Dead_ , and place his body on a cold metal slab, consigning him to darkness as the metal door was slammed shut behind him.

Through it all, Severus did not utter a sound. Albus, brushed at tears that continued to flow down his face. He could not understand why Severus looked so cold and uncaring, as though he were working on a potion, rather than attending his dead son's placement in the morgue. Both men waited in silence until the nurse, Leila, who had insisted upon bringing his body down to the morgue left. When they were sure they were alone, Severus walked to his son's slab, opened the door that housed his body and with Albus at his side, all three apparated to Spinner's End.

 


	4. Missing Spinelli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reaction of those left behind in Port Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some characters will be OOC, because of the circumstances.

Maxie rushed to the door of the morgue, followed by an arguing Lulu and Dr. Drake, "Maxie, you can't go in there like this," their words trailed after her as she pulled open the door. Spinelli could not be dead, she wouldn't allow it. She simply could not lose another friend so soon after losing her sister. She wouldn't believe he was dead until she saw his body. Tears streaked down her face as she pulled open the door to the morgue.

What she saw caused her to temporarily stop breathing. Two men, cloaked in black, had opened up the locker where Spinelli's body had been laid. Each had taken a hold of his body and then, right before her eyes they disappeared with a loud, _POP_! Blinking several times to make sure she had seen correctly, she shook her head to clear it. _No way, that did not just happen!_

Dr. Patrick Drake and Lulu walked into the morgue to find a distraught, though somewhat calm Maxie kneeling beside an empty slab labeled 'Damien Spinelli'. She didn't know what had happened or who those two men were or how or where they had taken Spinelli, but she would find out and she would bring him back. She believed with her whole heart that he was not dead – why would those men have taken a dead man with them wherever it is they had disappeared to? Why had they taken her Spinelli and what did they plan to do with him? She would get to the bottom of this and God help those two men who had taken her Spinelli as she vowed that she would take them apart limb from limb if they harmed even one greasy hair on his head.

"Maxie, what are you doing?" Lulu cried. Big crocodile tears fell freely down her face as she tried unsuccessfully to wrap her arms around the other girl.

"Spinelli is not dead. Two men came in and disappeared with him and I am going to find out where they disappeared to," Maxie stood and walked purposefully toward the door, her short blond hair swaying as she walked. There were no longer tears on her face, but a fierce, determined look.

Patrick and Lulu watched her walk away dumbstruck, believing that she had grown mad with grief. She was undoubtedly in the stage of denial imagining that she had seen Spinelli's body being spirited away by two grown men.

"Well, she is obviously in a lot of shock and it appears that Spinelli's body has been mis-labeled. We'll just have to find out where he has been placed and show Maxie," Patrick said as he started

opening drawers. An hour later, he and Lulu looked at each other in disbelief. Spinelli's body was missing and unless Maxie had somehow gotten him past them, which was doubtful, they knew that what she had been saying, though improbable, was the only plausible explanation. _Why would someone want to steal Damien Spinelli's body from the morgue? What could possibly be gained from that? And, what was the bit about them 'disappearing' with his body?_

…..

Maxie didn't bother to knock on the door as she barged into Jason's apartment, "Jason, Jason! Jason, where are you!?" Stomping her foot impatiently, she looked around the barely furnished apartment, "Okay, so you're not in the living room." When she didn't find him in the kitchen, she made her way up the stairs. Not finding him in the first couple of rooms she peered in, she turned to go back down the stairs; _maybe he wasn't home after all._

"What is that? Is that crying?" Maxie spun on her heel and walked toward a closed door on her left. Opening it, her eyes were suddenly assaulted by a room that looked as though a Pepto Bismol © bottle had exploded all over the walls, "Is this _ **The**_ _Regrettably Pink Room_?" She mused aloud turning around in its small confines to get a feel for where Spinelli had spent the past year boarding.

"Yes," a hoarse voice croaked out from the other side of the bed causing Maxie to jump, "What're you doing here Maxie? He's gone. "

Maxie walked to the other side of the bed and knelt next to Jason who was sitting on the floor, wedged between Spinelli's bed and a nightstand littered with half-empty orange soda cans and pizza boxes.

"Come on Jason, let me help you up," Maxie held out a hand to Jason who continued to stare ahead with bloodshot eyes, ignoring her completely. His knees were pulled up to his chest and he rested his head on his arms.

Kneeling down once more so that she was eye level with the stone cold hit man, she reached out a hand to caress his face, "Jason…I…Spinelli needs your help."

"Spinelli's dead Maxie!" Jason's eyes flared up with anger as he glared at the blond girl who stood before him.

"That's just it Jason, I don't think he is, I…"

"I was there when he died Maxie. I was in the room. I watched the doctor's work on him," the anger grew in his normally cold, controlled voice as he pushed Maxie away from him and stood causing the blond girl to fall on her butt.

"Jason, just listen to me," straightening out her white pantsuit as she stood, she pierced the man with a glare of her own, "when I went to the morgue to…say…goodbye to Spinelli, well, I saw….I saw two men dressed in black cloaks with him. They grabbed his body and, okay, so you might not

believe this, but it really did happen," she began chewing on her bottom lip, "they grabbed his body and disappeared with a _POP!_ Jason, someone kidnapped Spinelli."

Jason looked at Maxie with disbelief, could she really be that distraught over Spinelli's death that she had gone completely off the deep end? Jason was shaken out of his grief in his concern for the slight blond who stood in front of him.

"Maxie, he's dead," he placed his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "I was there. The doctors did everything they could to save him, but it just wasn't enough."

"Jason, I know what I saw and I know it sounds crazy, but you gotta believe me," she begged.

Shaking his head, Jason led her out of Spinelli's room and down to the living room where he directed her to the couch. Sitting reluctantly, she turned to Jason, pleading with her eyes for him to believe her.

"Maxie, I miss him too, I wish that he hadn't died, but he is dead and we can't bring him back."

"But that's just it Jason," she looked at him eagerly, "Ohmygoodness!" The sudden excitement in Maxie's voice threw him off guard and he backed away from the practically glowing girl, "Jason! Do you remember those two men in the lobby of the hospital when I came to see Spinelli?" When Jason indicated that he did, she went on, "I believe it was them I saw in the morgue with his body. I bet they did something to him to make it look like he died when he really didn't and then kidnapped him." She stood from where Jason had sat her and was practically beaming when she finished speaking.

"Maxie, that just doesn't make any sense," again, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes which were dancing with hope, "he's gone and he isn't coming back. No amount of wishing will bring him back. Maxie you need to stop deluding yourself."

"Jason, I know what I saw and I know in my heart that Spinelli is still alive and I am going to prove it. If you won't help me, I'll do it on my own," with that, she wrenched out of Jason's arms and stormed from his apartment determined to find and bring Spinelli back.

Jason shook his head in sorrow as he watched her leave. He wanted to believe what Maxie had said, but he had watched his friend die. He had seen and heard him breathe his last and had held onto hope that was crushed right before his very eyes. He had plead with God to spare his friend, even offering his own life and career in return, but God's ears had been deaf to his pleas and Spinelli's heart had ceased beating. He was dead. It should have been him instead.

…..

"Claudia," Maxie greeted, "hi, it's me, Maxie. Please listen to what I have to say before you say anything or hang up on me. I know it's going to sound crazy, but please just hear me out…"

"Maxie? What's this about?" Claudia looked at her cell phone as though it were Maxie herself.

"Just promise me you will listen to everything I say," Maxie pleaded.

"Okay," Claudia promised, somewhat taken aback.

"You remember those two men I saw you talking to in the lobby?"

"Yeah, Severus and Albus something or other. What about them?"

"Well, I think they faked Spinelli's death and kidnapped him."

"What?!" Claudia asked incredulously.

"I think they did something to make it look like Spinelli died and then kidnapped him," Maxie repeated in clipped tones over the cell phone.

"Er...Um...Okay," Claudia replied uncertainly.

"Well, when I went to the morgue to, you know, say goodbye to Spinelli, I saw those two men there with him. They grabbed onto his body and disappeared with him, like with magic or something," Maxie trailed off, knowing how crazy it all sounded.

"Maxie, look, I'm going to miss Spinelli too. He is the only guy who didn't look at me as some sort of sex object or as a way to get to my father or my brother. He was decent and the world could use more like him. As a matter of fact, the world is less bright without him in it, but we can't bring him back. He's gone, Maxie."

"But, that's just it Claudia, I don't think he is gone. Do you remember anything those men said?"

"All I know is that they were not from Port Charles, they had British accents or something like that. Maxie," Claudia's voice softened with concern, "don't do this to yourself. He's gone; he'd want you to go on living and to be happy. Don't chase after something that isn't real."

"Fine, if you won't help me, I'll just have to do this on my own," Maxie snapped her cell phone shut. Completely frustrated, she crossed her arms and looked out at the sea. She would do anything to bring Spinelli back, even cross an ocean.

 


	5. Through a Glass Dimly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am writing on a whim and for fun. In addition, I mean no disrespect to David Copperfield or The Count from Sesame Street who are merely mentioned in this chapter in regard to magic. Also, the title is derived from the Biblical verse 1 Corinthians 13:12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.)

Spinelli slowly became aware of a stinging sensation just below his navel as he began to wake. His entire body felt as though it were on fire or, more like a thousand itty bitty fire ants were attacking him all at once. He tried to raise his arms to brush them away, but, much to his dismay, he found they were no longer under his command. They remained leaden at his side. His eyes were, much to his chagrin, as equally adamant as his arms at not rising to his command. With much effort, he managed, just barely to move his head minutely to the side.

"Ah, my dear boy, he's coming to," a soft voice that confounded Spinelli spoke somewhere off to his right. He squinted his eyes in an effort to jog his memory as to who the disembodied voice might belong to _. Ha!_ He had done it; he had caused his eyes to move. Though momentarily triumphant, it gave him little comfort as his eyes still refused to move in the direction he truly wanted them to – open! And the effort, though admittedly insignificant, had taxed what little energy he seemed to have. _What on earth has happened to me? Surely the flu wouldn't have had this kind of effect on me._ It almost felt as though he had died, gone straight to the depths of hell, and been brought back to life to simply be tortured.

A small groan escaped his lips, completely void of his own volition and he immediately felt a rough hand rest on his forehead and another hand pry his mouth open, "Quick Albus, administer the potion," a harsh voice barked out the command as something cool and smooth was inserted into his mouth. For a moment he feared that he would choke on the icy liquid and struggled to rise, but again, his body would not comply. Panic engulfed him until he realized that somehow the liquid had wound its way down his throat and he could feel it at work from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. His nerves were no longer screaming in pain and, though he hadn't realized that he had been tense, he felt his body relax.

He heard a soft sigh come from the man with the rough hands, "You should rest now Mr. Spinelli. You've been through quite a lot," the voice admonished as the hands brushed his hair off his forehead. _Am I still in the hospital? Were these new doctors? What exactly have I been through? Hadn't I just been resting? Why do I feel as though I have just run a marathon through Hades and been spit out the mouth of a dragon, though slightly less so after having drank the icy…what had that man called it? Potion?_ Despite his curiosity, Spinelli's breathing eased and he succumbed to the welcoming darkness.

"Severus, you too should consider following your own advice. You've been working around the clock for the past three days," Albus placed a gentle arm on the younger man who jerked involuntarily at the touch.

"I still don't understand why it took the boy so long to awaken," he sat heavily in the armchair next to the bed where Spinelli lay.

"The potion I gave him was meant to abate after a few hours and I administered the antidote moments after we apparated," he turned to Albus, a fatigued look in his eye.

"Perhaps, my boy, it was a combination of the potion and his sickness that caused your son to have such a bad reaction. Or it could've been a reaction of the potion with the Muggle medicine. Either way, he is making a recovery now and, I assure you that I will be able to keep a sufficient eye on him while you get some much needed rest. You will do him no good in your current state of sleep deprivation."

"Why do you insist on calling him that?"

"What Severus?"

"Why do you insist upon calling Mr. Spinelli my son?"

Here, Albus sighed heavily, and placed a hand on the man's bent head, "Because Severus, he is, whether you want to admit to it or not, your son."

"Albus, he must never know that he is my son. I am not fit to be anyone's father," Severus raised his bloodshot eyes to the older man in a plea for compliance.

"Though I disagree wholeheartedly with you Severus, I assure you that he will not learn the truth from me my dear boy. We will tell him the lie that you have contrived and leave him in the dark as to his true heritage. He will attend Hogwarts as a fourth year student none the wiser as to his true parentage," Albus' blue eyes held a touch of sorrow in them as he gazed at his former pupil's bent head. Slipping some dreamless sleep potion into a cup of tea, Albus handed the cup to Severus who gratefully drank the dark liquid and fell into an oblivious sleep in the chair beside his son's bed.

…..

Spinelli slowly regained consciousness, though he resisted the urge to move when he heard two men whispering fervently.

"Albus," an angry voice hissed, "you shouldn't have done it. It is tantamount to poisoning or at the very least robbing me of my own free will."

"But my dear boy," Albus' eyes sparkled with humor as he looked at Severus over Spinelli's prone form, "don't you feel rested and refreshed now? Better able to take care of your ward?"

"That is not the point," Severus growled as he reached out an impatient hand to grasp Spinelli's wrist, checking the pulse. Spinelli couldn't help it and cringed at the abrupt touch, his eyes opening sluggishly. Severus gasped and dropped the wrist he held, his eyes immediately locking on Spinelli's confused brown ones. He could see a number of emotions swirling within those dark orbs and had to force himself to look away lest he reveal too much of himself to the boy.

"Wh…" Spinelli painfully cleared his throat, "who are you?" Spinelli's voice came out as little more than a hoarse whisper. Wincing in pain, he grimaced self-consciously at the dark haired man who stared down at him. Instead of answering him, the man placed an arm behind his back and lifted him into a half-sitting position catching a glass of water that whizzed through the air with his other hand. Though Spinelli was discombobulated having witnessed a glass of water soaring through the air as if by magic, he took a grateful sip of the sweet blessed hydrous liquid and smiled believing what he had just witnessed to be one of the many hallucinations he had been subjected to in the past couple of days. _Surely water could not float of its own accord._

"Are you a new doctor?" Spinelli asked, confusion seeping through every pore as the man gently laid him back down on the bed.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," the man nodded his head, not looking the younger man in the eye as he tucked the bedclothes around him once again.

"How long have you been working here?" Spinelli fought back a yawn. _How can I be tired after having slept so long?_ The man didn't answer, but kept his head bent as he muttered something and swept a wand over Spinelli's prone body from his feet to his head.

"Has the poison been expelled?" Spinelli turned his head at the addition of a second voice and saw a white-haired man with sparkling blue eyes gazing in anticipation at the dark-haired man who indicated that the poison had not left with a single shake of his head.

Looking back and forth between the two men, Spinelli's head began to swim and a headache started forming. Moaning, he grasped a handful of hair and squinted his eyes shut as the pain blossomed.

"Here, drink this," the man Spinelli had begun thinking of as _Wizardly Doctor of Doom_ put a vial to his lips and held his head up so that he could drink. Sputtering, he grimaced at the vile taste of the liquid.

"What was that egregious liquid?" Spinelli loosened his grip on his hair and tentatively opened his eyes, happy to find that there were no longer stars dancing in front of his eyes and that the pain in his head had begun to subside.

Quirking an eyebrow, Severus allowed the young man to settle back onto the pillow before answering, "That was a po…medicine for headaches."

"Well, it was not particularly pleasing to the palate, but as it has eased my headache I am quite beholden," Spinelli smiled at the _Wizardly Doctor of Doom_ who returned his smile with a curl of his lips. Taking time to slowly regard the room he was unaware he had been in for the past week, Spinelli realized with a start that it did not look anything like the room he had been taken to at General Hospital. _When had the white walls been replaced by knotted oak paneling? Where had the equipment that had monitored his heart and breathing gone? As a matter of fact where had the IV disappeared to?_ Spinelli's head began to swim again and he had to close his eyes. His eyes popped open as he realized that the bed _felt_ different. He struggled to sit up and his eyes widened in disbelief at the green and black patchwork quilt that covered him.

"Mr. Spinelli, I suggest that you lie down and relax before you regain your headache," _Wizardly Doctor of Doom_ said in a dulcet, yet commanding tone. Whimpering slightly, Spinelli complied.

"Where am I?" He plead with the two men who exchanged a mysterious look.

"Mr. Spinelli," the gentle white-haired one spoke, "you have been removed from Port Charles for your own safety. When you have rested a bit more, we will explain the import of our actions," seeing that Spinelli was about to protest, Albus lay a hand on the young man's chest forbidding him to rise, "for now, rest while I confer with my colleague."

"I don't want to rest," Spinelli rose to an elbow despite the _White Wizard_ 's attempt to keep him lying down, "I want to know where I am and who you are," he said stubbornly.

"Well, my dear boy, you are in a guest room of Hogwarts' Potions Professor, Severus Snape," he sighed indicating _Wizardly Doctor of Doom_ with a gesture, "and I am Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore." Noting the twinkle in the elderly man's eye, Spinelli shook his head slowly in disbelief. Sure, he had donned each man with a nickname indicating wizardry, but never in a million years would he believe what he had just heard the _White Wizard_ articulate.

_It was impossible. There were no such thing as wizards and magic did not exist aside from the sleight of hand that magicians like David Copperfield or The Count from Sesame Street ®performed. He was worse off than he had previously imagined. Maybe he had slipped into a world all his own while those he worshiped and loved were trying to reach him, or even worse, perhaps he was in a coma and this was some sort of made up reality he had contrived in his imagination. He wondered briefly if Maximista were at his side, sorrowfully urging him to waken and hoped that he would wake up soon. I don't want to live in this world. Where is Maximista? Where is Stone Cold? What if I never wake up, but spend the rest of my life trapped in my mind?_ _Feeling a brief kinship with The Blonde One's mom he wondered if he too would wind up spending the rest of his life in a room next to hers while people visited him and left feeling sad not knowing how to break through to him._

Pinching himself, he frowned when, instead of waking up to find himself back in the white-walled rooms of General Hospital, he found himself still in the presence of the _White Wizard_ and the _Wizardly Doctor of Doom_. Looking at the arm he had pinched, he noted that the mark had reddened and ached slightly.

Noting his son's discomfit and the beginnings of panic, Severus glared at Albus and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Spinelli's shoulder. The boy jumped at the sudden intrusion into his dire musings and squealed. _Maybe I'm not in a coma after all. Do people feel sensation when they are in comas? Can they feel when others touch them? Perhaps what I think is this Potions Professor named Severus Snape (What kind of name is that anyway?) touching me is really Stone Cold trying to reach me through the confines of the coma,_ he thought hopefully. _Now, if only I could force myself to wake up,_ Spinelli tried opening and closing his eyes several times to see if it would help him return to reality. When that didn't work, he began pulling at his hair, watching with detached interest as clumps of his hair fell onto the quilt which he noted had been stitched in a snakelike pattern. _Odd,_ narrowing his eyes, Spinelli could swear that the snakelike pattern was undulating under his gaze. This was enough to make him drop his hands to his side. The undulation of the snakes calmed him for reasons unknown to himself and he watched the snakes writhe on the quilt.

"Severus what's happening?" Albus' voice was etched with concern.

"You fool!" His eyes threw daggers in Albus' direction, "he should've been eased into the magical world. What were you thinking Albus?" Severus was so livid he didn't realize that he had spoken to the Headmaster with such contempt. He didn't notice that both Albus and Spinelli cringed at the tone of his voice.

Turning his dark eyes to the son he didn't want to claim, he prepared to look into his mind and see what he was imagining to determine how best to help him. Clasping the pallid face in both his hands, he raised the boy's eyes to his own and whispered, "Legilimens." Nothing could've prepared him for what he saw when he entered the mind of Damian Spinelli.

 


	6. Not Wholly Separate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this will take place in Spinelli's mind.

As Severus chanted, "Legilimens," he became aware of a couple of things all at once. First, Spinelli was a gifted Occulemens and second, the boy was definitely a wizard that the Dark Lord would seek out when he came back to power. His son, though he appeared to be anything but in the time that he had followed him around Port Charles, would be a wizard to be reckoned with once he had been properly trained.

He had hoped to gain insight into what was going on in Spinelli's mind through the act of Legilimens, but had inadvertently been drawn into a connection of sorts. Severus felt as though he were being swallowed whole by the young man's mind and had to fight hard to maintain his sense of self. He had never experienced anything like this before and briefly wondered (at the very back of his mind) if it was a result of his relationship with the boy. Had this happened because he was Spinelli's father?

Severus found himself, not viewing random thoughts, but rather standing in what appeared to be a, _regrettably_ , pink room surrounded by half-crushed empty orange soda cans and empty pizza boxes. _Were those potato chips littering the carpeted floor? And where was his quarry in the midst of all of this… ordered chaos?_ It was rather like entering memories stored in a penseive, yet Severus doubted this was a memory. No, he had the distinct feeling that this place was a sort of refuge for the young man. _Why pink though?_ He found himself wondering as he slowly turned, taking in the rather small room, noting that there was a twin bed covered haphazardly in various paraphernalia.

Upon even closer inspection Severus discovered Spinelli's laptop sitting open atop a nightstand revealing a picture of a pixie-like blond girl on its screen. Peering closer at the picture, Severus noted that she had a rather fetching smile and, much to his consternation, a twinkle that could put Albus' own to shame, in her eyes. This must be the Maximista that he often heard Spinelli mention in his ramblings. He could see why his son liked her and wondered whether she could possibly ever return his affections _. He was probably as out of league as he himself had been with Lily Evans, the love of his life. Like father like son, well there isn't much I can do,_ Severus thought as he turned away from her image.

_Where is Spinelli? This is his mind after all; shouldn't he be around here somewhere?_ Severus whirled around peering in each corner. _I wonder… could he be under the bed?_ He stooped down and looked, feeling ridiculous when he didn't find him there. _This is not supposed to happen. Where are the swirling memories? Why hasn't Spinelli materialized in some way yet? Why haven't I been expelled from_

_his mind? What is going on?_ Suddenly realizing the enormity of what was and was not happening, Severus attempted to leave Spinelli's mind only to find that he could not.

Turning to leave the horribly pink room, if he were temporarily stuck in the boy's mind, he would _not_ be staying in this particular room; he found that the door had been shut. _When had that happened?_ Striding to the door to pry it open, he frowned when it wouldn't budge. Trying the door again, he nearly delved into panic when it stayed put. Realizing that pulling at the door and panicking would be to no avail, he took a deep breath and, looking around, decided that he might as well attempt to get comfortable. _Spinelli would have to show up sometime, wouldn't he?_ Clearing a space on the bed, Severus sat to wait and then stood again. This would not do, he would have to figure out how to reach the boy.

_Perhaps? Hmmmm…..maybe if I just, but it would be an invasion of privacy…._ Severus tossed his misgivings aside and turned to the laptop. _Now, how does one work these things_? He thought as he picked up the computer and frowned when the picture of the lovely blond girl disappeared. _How had that happened?_ Turning the computer upside down Severus frowned in confusion. _How on earth do these contraptions work?_ Magic he understood; modern technology baffled him.

"Put that down," Spinelli came sprinting into the room and tore the computer from a thoroughly confused Severus. Holding the computer to his chest and patting it like a baby, he turned murderous eyes on Severus.

"Spinelli, listen, I know that you are scared and confused, but if you will let me, I can explain what's happening," Severus placed a hand on his shoulder, but Spinelli spun away from him.

"No, you, you're a figment of my imagination. You do not exist in the realm of reality and as soon as I return to a sound state of mind, you will cease to exist entirely," Spinelli ranted to himself while pacing the small length of the room.

"I assure you that I am not merely a figment of your overworked imagination," Severus stood in front of Spinelli obstructing his path and forcing the young computer hacker to look up from the computer he held in his arms.

Gulping, Spinelli took a step back and stumbled onto the bed, "Get thee hence your darkness," he sputtered crossing himself while simultaneously crawling backward toward the headboard, computer still clutched in one arm.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," Severus took a step toward the bed. How should he approach this? Albus had really fouled things up by springing everything on the boy all at once, how could he counter the damage that he had done and help Spinelli come to terms with the truth? It was quite clear to him that Spinelli believed that everything he had been told was somehow all a fabrication of his afflicted psyche. He even thought that Severus was an illusion.

Sighing heavily at the look of terror portrayed on his son's face, Severus sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring it when Spinelli inched even further away from him. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Why

ever did you decide on this putrid pink color for your place of refuge? Surely something in a soothing blue or cheery yellow would be far more suitable."

Surprised that the Dark Menacing One would inquire as to the color of his room rather than flay him alive, he shrugged. _What did the color of his room, as regrettably pink as it was, have to do with anything? Why would this imaginary figure care?_

"Spinelli, I don't want to shock you as you have already had a rather terrible one already, but I'd rather be having this conversation _outside_ of your mind rather than….here," Severus just managed not to sneer as he glanced around the cramped quarters.

"What do you mean _outside_ of my mind?" Curiosity had gotten the better of him and he leaned toward Severus, "How can we converse outside of my mind when I am currently comatose?"

"Ah, I see," Severus nodded, _how the hell was he going to counter this? The kid thought that this was literally all in his mind and probably held onto the hope that he would someday be able to wake up and everything would be as it was before he had gotten ill._

"I mean, you are obviously my darker subconscious beckoning me toward insanity," Spinelli managed to look apologetic as he said this to Severus, as though he didn't blame him for the inevitable enslavement of his mind that he feared would overtake him at any moment, "and Albus? That was his name wasn't it? He is the guide toward the light, but I have somehow lost the light and the battle will soon be forfeit," hugging the computer to himself he curled up on the bed.

"I am by no means your _darker subconscious_ and Albus, believe me, is no _guide toward the light_. As a matter of fact, he is the one responsible for your current condition," Severus ground out. This was not going well, he had to convince Spinelli that not only was _he_ real, but that everything Albus had said was real as well. He had to introduce Spinelli to a world that most people thought was complete fancy. How could he convince Spinelli that, not only did magic exist, but that he himself was a wizard?

Sighing deeply Severus reached out to lay a hand lightly on his son's foot. Unsure what he should say to help Spinelli come to grips with this alternate reality; he opted for a blunt approach, "Spinelli, you are a wizard. You were born to an unwed, teenage mother who happened to be a witch. Your father, a wizard, was unaware that your mother was pregnant with you. She died during childbirth and her parents thought it best to hide your birth from your father, so they, in essence, stripped you of your magical heritage and placed you with the person you grew up calling 'grandmother'," _short, but to the point, that should do the trick._

"Um, who was my mother and is my father still living?" Spinelli looked up at the dark cloaked man who sat on his bed, a curious haunted expression on his face.

"Your mother was a fifteen year old school girl named Kathy Spinnaker who got involved with a foolish boy who threw his life away not too long after he left school. He got involved in the Dark Arts and followed an evil man. The Dark Lord now claims his soul," Severus finished with a dark scowl on his face that made Spinelli shiver.

"Okay, temporarily casting away my personal doubts, though I would like it duly noted that I still have those doubts," seeing Severus nod, Spinelli sat up and continued, "let's say that I do believe there are magical entities and forces at work in the world around me that heretofore I was blissfully unaware of….that I was, as you say, born to two teenaged magical beings, why am I just being informed of this?"

Clearing his throat uncertainly, Severus looked into Spinelli's eyes and was struck by how like Kathy's they were. He hadn't noticed that before. Conceding that his son had a right to know why he hadn't been informed of his magical inheritance earlier, he began, "Until now, there has not been a reason to inform you. Your mother's parents had been able to keep you safe through their ruse, but now darker forces are at work. Wizards who serve the Dark Lord have become aware of the existence of the son of a _powerful,"_ he nearly choked on the word, "wizard who was reputedly one of the right hand men of the Dark Lord. Had they found you before Albus and me, you would have been taken and trained to serve the Dark Lord upon his return. They would have bent you to their will or nearly killed you in the process. Albus and I have come to keep you safe from those who would seek to harm you for their own purposes. It would," Severus leaned in closer, "please the Dark Lord to have the son of such a wizard. He would take great pleasure in garnering your service and enslaving you to do his will."

"What about my father? Does he still serve this _Dark Lord_?" Spinelli attempted to move further away from Severus but found that he was already up against the headboard.

"He," Severus searched for the right words, "died in service to the Dark Lord."

"So basically I am the lucky bastard of a teenage witch whose wizard father died serving an evil warlord? And you and Albus are here to save me from a life of slavery to the _Dark Lord_? Great…so, not only am I trapped in my mind, but now I am having delusions on an egomaniacal scale," Spinelli let his head crack against the headboard, hoping it would wake him out of this nightmare, "ouch! Okay, that didn't work like it was supposed to. Maybe I should just play along with this whole crazy thing. If I never wake up," here he swallowed a huge lump that had formed in his throat, "well, I will have loved and if I remain forever a virtual vegetable, well, that moment of love will see me through until the plug is pulled on my life support."

Snorting, Severus arched a single brow and shook his head at his son's dramatics, "Well, I suppose that will do, for the moment. Do you think we can get out of this abhorrently pink room now? If I never see this shade of pink again, I shall die a happy man."

Arching a brow of his own, Spinelli smiled, blinked and with a dizzying swirl, Severus found himself standing once more in the room that had temporarily become his son's quarters, staring into eyes that held a mischievous, yet wary twinkle in them.

"Ah, so then everything has been put to rights, I assume," Albus smiled and Severus turned a murderous glare on him, noting that his eyes too held a mischievous, yet jovial twinkle to them. _Damn them both,_ turning on his heel he swept out the door, his cape billowing around him in an impressive manner that Spinelli found fascinating.

"Can every wizard do that?" He turned to Albus, having decided that if he were going to play along with the fantasy his mind had created, he might as well do so in earnest. _Billowing cloaks, that would be magnificent._

"That, my dear boy, I am afraid, is wholly unique to Severus himself. You will have to ask him the secret to his billowing cloaks," Albus drew in conspiringly, "and when you find out his secret, pass it on to me; I've been trying for years to duplicate it, but to no avail." Sighing heavily, Albus rested an elbow on the edge of the bed and popped a lemon drop into his mouth, offering one to Spinelli, "It makes for such a dramatic exit you see and, well I believe that it would come in handy at times when I need to make an impressive exit myself. It just doesn't leave as great an impact when one's robes simply swish or tangle around one's ankles."

Laughing, Spinelli took the proffered lemon drop and determined that, if he did nothing else in this alternative wizarding world, he would learn how to make his robes billow and pass on that knowledge to the white-haired denizen who sat beside his bed.

 


	7. A Possible Heiress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more to Maxie than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't have summaries for all chapters. 
> 
> Some spoilers for the final Harry Potter book (DH) and an inconsistent timeline jump as Albus uncharacteristically visits his brother who is not revealed until the final book (this story has been set in the summer of the fourth year - well before we learn that Albus has a brother). I apologize for any confusion. I took some liberties in that I have Maxie taking a locket from her sister after her death so that she can keep the family heirloom in lieu of her sister. Hope that all of that is okay. Thank you. : )

Maxie stalked away from Lulu who had been trying to comfort her over the loss of Spinelli. Lulu had acknowledged that his body had gone missing – she and Patrick had entered the morgue after her and had been unable to find his body. She refused, however, to believe that what Maxie had seen had really happened, insisting instead that Spinelli's body had been stolen by someone who wanted to harvest his organs or use it for some sick purpose. _As if_ , Maxie huffed while she waited impatiently for the elevator to reach street level.

Resolving that she would have to continue her search for a live Spinelli on her own, Maxie stormed from the hospital and ran smack into an impeccably dressed man. Falling gracefully in a lump at his feet, she looked up and the breath caught in her throat. He had long hair that was so blonde it was nearly white and his eyes were a cool grey. He could give Stone Cold a run for his money with the look that he threw her way. His angular face held an aristocratic sneer as he glanced at her and promptly stepped over her as though she were nothing more than an obstacle in his way. She knew that Kate Howard was still looking for a male model for her magazine and knew that he would be perfect for her, but the look he had given her made her feel as though he could just as easily kill her as look at her. The silver silk suit he wore was flawless and the simple cape that accompanied it seemed perfect on him, though it would have looked ridiculous on any other man. _Well, maybe Jax could pull it off_ , Maxie reasoned as she pulled herself to her feet and followed the strange man back into the hospital, determined to find out who he was for Kate.

Seeing him disappear into the elevator, she ran and stuck a slender hand into the elevator doors just before they closed. Smiling she entered the elevator and gulped in air, "Phew almost missed it," she said brightly to the two men who towered over her.

The other man had dark hair and was more bluntly featured. He was nothing like the man whom Maxie knew would be perfect for Kate's magazine, yet she knew instinctively that they were together. Both men were intimidating and kind of scared her when they looked at her. She felt as though they thought she was scum of the earth and would be better off dead. Taking a deep breath,

determined not to let their intimidation make her cower, she gave them her best smile, "So, what brings you two to Port Charles' General Hospital?"

Clearing his throat in annoyance, the blonde man looked down at Maxie and said, "Personal business," before looking away.

"Ooh, you have an accent. Where are you from?" She beamed, recognizing that it was the same accent as that of the men who had taken Spinelli.

"None of your business," the other man growled at her. Flinching, despite her determination not to be intimidated, she turned her sparkling blue eyes and dimpled smile on the other man, looking at him expectantly. Her charm had worked on others and, in spite of this man's abrupt behavior earlier; she believed that if she played it right, it would work on him as well. Batting her eyelashes at him, she bent her head quizzically and waited for his answer.

Narrowing his eyes at the girl, the blonde-haired man lifted his chin and replied, "Wiltshire, England," with an arrogant sniff and looked away from her. He hadn't intended to tell her anything at all, but found her to be intriguing in spite of the fact that she was clearly a common muggle. She hadn't been intimated by him as most were which meant that she was brave and confident. He also found it impressive that she had read Mulciber correctly ascertaining that the other man would not be worth her time. She had instead turned her interest toward him and merely waited him out; inclining her head to him in a gesture of acquiescence, knowing it would eventually elicit an answer. She would make an impressive Slytherin, he accorded. Looking more closely at the girl, making her slightly nervous, he glimpsed a locket around her neck. Perhaps they weren't looking for a son after all; maybe this young girl was the child of the Death Eater that they were searching for.

"Where did you find that locket that adorns your neck?" He gently grasped the locket in his fingers. Maxie swallowed and snatched the locket from his fingers, feeling as though she had been slightly burned by the brief contact her skin had made with his.

"It was a gift from a friend," she answered vaguely, not wanting to reveal that it was a family heirloom that she had inherited when her sister had been killed.

"That's a lie," Lucius stated as he smiled and placed a finger under her chin raising her eyes to his own, "Legilimens," he whispered as the door to the elevator opened.

Memories swirled in Maxie's mind and she fought to hold onto them as the memory of her sister's death, Jesse's death, and finally Spinelli's removal from the morgue floated to the surface. She finally succeeded in expelling the man from her mind and sent him sprawling backwards into the lobby and into the stern bosom of Nurse Epiphany Johnson who scowled at the man sprawled on the hospital floor in front of her.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" She demanded of the man, giving him a look much like he had given Maxie upon their first meeting. Her hands were fisted on her hips and Maxie, in spite of how sick she felt at the intrusion the man had made into her mind, laughed.

"Thank you Epiphany," she smiled sweetly at the matronly nurse who narrowed her eyes at the slight girl and pursed her lips, shaking her head in disapproval.

"What were you doing in the elevator with these two?" She gestured toward the blonde-haired man who still had not moved to lift himself up off the floor and the other, dark-haired man who stood staring stupidly at the other man, not moving to help his friend.

"They started following me as soon as I left the hospital and I thought it would be safer for me to return here, but they followed me into the elevator and threatened me," Maxie managed to work up convincing tears for her lie and turned her welling eyes toward the nurse, "he," she gestured toward the blonde on the floor, "grabbed me and…"Maxie's voice cracked as she gave into her fake tears.

"Are you okay sweetie?" Epiphany asked, stepping over an incredulous Lucius and pulling Maxie into a brief embrace to comfort the clearly stricken girl.

"That is not at all how it happened," the dark haired wizard sputtered. Lucius gave the man a warning glare and he clammed up, finally realizing he should probably give the other wizard a hand up, he pulled Lucius to his feet. Brushing himself off, Lucius turned toward the incensed nurse, knowing he would not get the answers he needed from her. The memories he had been able to glean from his brief intrusion into Maxie's mind had given him ample information to ponder anyway. _For example, why had Dumbledore and Snape been here and what did they want with a scrawny looking boy who reminded him of Snape when he was a boy at Hogwarts? And why did this blonde-haired pixie bear a locket from one of the oldest wizarding families in the history of the wizarding world? She had been able to expel him from her mind, no muggle would have the power to do something like that, yet she did not appear to be aware of her status as a witch. Could she be the heir they were looking for or was it that boy whom Dumbledore and Snape had retrieved? Perhaps it would be best if he brought her back to Malfoy Manor with him._

The look that the blonde-haired man was giving her caused Maxie to shiver, convincing Epiphany that the girl had been assaulted by the man. Lucky Spencer stepped out of the elevator only to be accosted by the angered nurse, "Arrest this man," she pointed an angry finger in Lucius' direction. Knowing that he would have to act quickly, lest he fall into the hands of the authorities, not that he was worried about muggle authorities in the States, but it wouldn't do to sully the Malfoy name with something so trivial, he grabbed Maxie's arm wrenching her away from Epiphany's hold and, spinning on his heel, disappeared with the girl. Hoping that Mulciber would be smart enough to follow on his own, he apparated to Malfoy Manor with the struggling girl in tow.

As soon as she felt solid ground beneath her feet, Maxie fought off the man whose grip was causing bruising to purple her arm and glared at him, "Get your hands off of me."

"You are quite a clever, manipulative witch," Lucius continued to grip her arm by the bicep.

Wincing, Maxie glared at him, "Let go of me."

"Fine," Lucius loosened his grip on the girl, "follow me," he ordered.

"No," Maxie stomped her foot and stood her ground. Taking a brief glance around her, she was alarmed when she realized that she was no longer at General Hospital, but was on a road that led up to what looked like a castle. _How on earth had she gotten here?_

"Who are you?" She demanded, not moving from her spot as though rooted to the ground. Stopping when he realized that she would not follow, the blonde-haired man turned to glare at Maxie.

"I'm Lucius Malfoy, and you are?" He inquired.

"Maxie Jones," she replied.

"Come along then Maxie, there is much to do," Lucius gestured toward the castle.

"No," she refused to budge from her spot on the road, "why did you call me a witch?"

"You don't know?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

"I've been called a bitch before, but never a witch," she challenged.

"That locket you bear around your neck…" Lucius began impatient for the girl to follow him.

"Is a family heirloom," Maxie interrupted, knowing that he had seen her take it from her sister in the memory he had stolen a glimpse of when he had invaded her mind.

"It would be much easier and safer," Lucius glanced around them as though expecting figures to pop out of thin air any minute, "for us to talk within Malfoy Manor." He again turned to walk toward the manor wishing that he had taken the wards down so that he could have apparated directly there.

"Tell me now," she stated, firmly holding her ground, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest.

"Listen, you insufferable witch," Lucius stalked toward her having lost all patience, he raised a hand toward her and she flinched away as he attempted to grab her arm. Something happened as his hand reached for her that Maxie could not explain, but which she was grateful for even so. The air crackled around her as though charged with static electricity and Lucius bounced back as though he had come into contact with an invisible bubble or had inadvertently walked into a glass door. Cursing, he charged her again, and bounced backwards, hitting the gravel of the road hard.

Drawing his wand, he prepared to throw a hex at her protective barrier, but was stopped short when several wizards and witches appeared out of thin air with loud _Popping_ sounds. Dumbledore was among the first to appear, followed by other governors of Hogwarts school and members of the Ministry of Magic. Lucius had forgotten that there was to be a meeting at his home and glared as Dumbledore offered him a hand up with a humorous twinkle in his eye.

"Lucius, you needn't have come to meet us outside your gate," he beamed down at the man who was, for the second time that day, straightening out his suit thanks to Maxie Jones. _Damn, he hadn't even had time to change into the proper robes._ _Maxie would pay for this, he would see to it,_

_powerful witch or not, she would pay for making him look foolish in front of the wizard reputed to be the most powerful wizard – the only wizard whom the Dark Lord feared – of the time._ Sending a glare her way, he realized too late that the governors and Ministry members would wonder about Maxie's presence, though he silently cheered that he should now be able to coax her into his home where he would be able to exact a proper punishment for her impertinence and see to her training for service to the Dark Lord upon his return.

It appeared as though, up until this point in time, she had been unaware of her magical abilities. The fact that she had been able to construct a protective shield, even though it was accidental magic, was impressive. He would be able to shape and mold her in the way of the dark arts and present her as a gift to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord would no doubt reward him greatly for such a gift. Lucius smiled at the thought of pleasing the man he had devoutly served for so many years and continued to serve even in his absence, never having believed that he had been killed as so many other followers had. _Yes, he would be highly rewarded by his master and would become his second in command._

Following Lucius' prolonged gaze, Dumbledore stifled a gasp as he recognized the distraught girl who had visited Spinelli prior to the execution of his and Severus' plan to remove the boy from the hospital. He realized several things all at once. Firstly, that Spinelli's friend pleaded for help with desperation in her bright blue eyes. Secondly, that Lucius must've been at the hospital in Port Charles looking for the son of the loyal Death Eater and brought the girl back with him for some reason. Thirdly, that the eyes of the Ministry and governors of Hogwarts were all resting on the girl in a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Dumbledore knew he had to get the girl away from Malfoy grounds immediately.

"I apologize my dear colleagues," Dumbledore turned to look at each member of the Ministry and governor on the board of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, "but I must briefly escort my cousin here to my home as she seems to have mistaken our agreed upon meeting place and time."

With a brief nod at each wizard and witch present, Dumbledore walked over to the blonde girl who mouthed, "Thank you," as she glanced past him, catching the murderous glare of Lucius. Dumbledore gently grasped her arm, aware of the purpling bruises that had formed on her biceps. Anger flashed in his eyes as he realized that Lucius must have put those marks on her arm. Turning on his heel, the world fell away and then spun back into place again a moment later as he and Maxie apparated to the town of Hogsmeade. Bringing the girl through the back door of what appeared to her to be a bar, he asked for a man named Aberforth. While they waited, he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Albus, what's this about?" A surly looking version of the man who had rescued her from Lucius entered the back room.

"Aberforth, I need your help," Albus gestured toward the girl whose arm he still gently gripped.

"It can't be," Aberforth whispered incredulously. The girl that Albus had steered into his pub bore a striking resemblance to their younger sister, Ariana, who had died a tragic death in childhood.

"You can't ask this of me," he turned his back on a confused Albus and the girl who reminded him of his beloved sister.

"But, can't you help me?" Maxie pleaded at the retreating figure who stopped in his tracks.

"Sorry, I can't, you remind me too much of someone that I lost," Aberforth refused to look at the girl.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Maxie felt tears stinging the back of her eyes. _It had been a long day. She wished that she had not followed Lucius into the elevator. He had been far too arrogant to model for Kate anyway. She wanted to return home and wake up to find that the past week had all been a bizarre dream. Maybe she had gotten sick from visiting Spinelli and was really at home or at the hospital sleeping and dreaming all of this. Magic, wizards, and witches weren't real after all… were they?_

Reaching toward the hurting man, Maxie placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and reached up to place a kiss on his cheek, "I'm sure whomever you lost would've wanted you to know that she loved you," she turned back to Albus and unsure of what she was about to say, spoke anyway, "and that she doesn't blame either of you for what happened. It was an accident." Blushing in embarrassment at what she had said, Maxie looked at the rough wooden floor and wished that she could disappear into it. _Who was she to say any of that? She didn't even know these men after all. They probably thought she was nuts. Although, if she were dreaming, none of it would really matter when she woke up so she may as well do what she could to make these elderly men feel better._

A light of understanding dawned in Albus' mind and he looked at Maxie as though he were seeing her for the first time, "Oh… my… I hadn't noticed," he stuttered uncharacteristically, "she does look strikingly like Ariana," he looked imploringly at his brother who had turned around at Albus' exclamation.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable as the two wizards gazed at her in wonder, Maxie held out a hand to Aberforth who took it gingerly as though he feared she would fall apart right before his eyes, "Hello, my name's Maxie. It's a pleasure to meet you." She turned on the charm figuring it couldn't hurt whether she was in dreamland or not.

"A..a..berfoth," the man smiled in return.

Turning and holding her hand out to Albus, she repeated her greeting.

"Albus," the man frowned at her and quickly released her hand as though he had been burned by her touch.

"Albus, how did you find her?" Aberforth seemed to have gotten over his reluctance to help.

"Uh…er..." he was at a loss of words as he gazed dazedly at the girl who stood in front of him.

"Let me explain. I was at the hospital looking into my friend Spinelli's disappearance, Albus knows all about his disappearance and he can enlighten both of us on the details of that later. Anyway, I

was just leaving the hospital when I ran into this man with blonde hair that was so blonde it was almost white. Curious as to who he was and thinking he would make a great male model for my boss, Kate Hudson's magazine, I followed him and this other guy back into the hospital. Well," Maxie paused to take a breath and gather her thoughts, unsure whether she should share the part about the invasion of her mind or not, "while we were in the elevator I found out that they were from England and just before we got out of the elevator," biting her lip Maxie gazed up into Aberforth's gentle eyes, "well, Lucius, that's the guy with the uber blonde hair, gazed into my eyes and was able to see some of my thoughts before I was able to push him out. Oh yeah, and he was totally interested in this locket that I took from my sister after she was killed," Maxie glanced at the floor as the memory of Georgie's death flooded over her again and tears welled up in her eyes once more, "it is a family heirloom and Lucius seems to think that I am some powerful witch or something like that. Oh and he saw the memory I had of Albus and some other wizard taking Spinelli from the morgue. Is he still alive?" She turned toward Albus who simply nodded, "Oh thank God, you've got to take me to him," she enthused.

"How did you end up here though?" Aberforth questioned.

"Oh, well after Epiphany, I totally have to thank her when I get back or when I wake up if this has totally been a dream, asked Lucky to arrest Lucius, he grabbed my arm and well, the next thing I knew, I was standing on a road in front of a castle and he was calling me a witch and trying to get me to follow him to his castle. I didn't want to go and he started to tell me about the locket, but then got impatient and started coming at me. I got scared and something happened. It felt like there was an electrical charge in the air and he couldn't touch me. It was like I was surrounded by my own personal invisible shield. He tried coming at me again and bounced off it. He raised his wand and then, well Albus and the others came and I was rescued," she said almost all in one breath.

Dumbstruck, both Aberforth and Albus looked at her with open mouths.

"Can I see the locket that Lucius was interested in?" Albus asked.

"Sure," Maxie held it out for him to look at.

"It can't be," he whispered, peering more closely at Maxie as if he were trying to see through to her very core.

With a puzzled look on her face, Maxie contemplated the silver locket that Albus fingered, which was in the shape of a heart. It bore a pattern of interlaced circles on the outside which stood for eternity. When Albus opened it, he discovered the picture of Georgie that Maxie had placed within it and beneath it he found what he was looking for – the initials MA. On the back was a slightly worn Celtic boar symbol for strength.

"Do you know what this means?" He turned to Maxie, gingerly holding the locket out to her.

"Um, no," she said, astounded that her sister's locket had more meaning than she had previously thought. For her, it was a reminder of her sister's bravery, love, and compassion. It

reminded her of her sister's kindness and passion for life. Before placing it back around her neck, she looked more closely at the intricate pattern, running her fingers over it.

"You could be the descendant of a very powerful wizard," Albus stated simply, reluctant to reveal too much to the novice witch. He wanted to mull a few things over before disclosing too much. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he looked wearily at his younger brother, "would you be able to give her a room for a few nights while I figure out what to do with her?"

"Hey, I'm still in the room you know. I'm not some piece of furniture or some blasted doll that you can feel free to do whatever you please with," Maxie huffed, angrily dislodging Albus' hand from her shoulder as she walked toward the door.

"She can stay," Aberforth said as though Maxie hadn't spoken, "I will put her up in one of the rooms above the pub."

Maxie pulled at the door and nearly landed on her butt when the door wouldn't budge. Determined to get out of the presence of the two men who had seemed to have forgotten her, she kept pulling at the door. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough she would be able to blast the door away or knock it over or something, after all she had been able to keep Lucius from her when she had been afraid that he would hurt her. Calming herself, she focused all of her attention on the door, willing it to open. When it started to rattle in its hinges, the two men finally broke from the trance that they seemed to have fallen into when it had been revealed that Maxie resembled their younger sister and that she could be the descendant of a powerful wizard.

Muttering something under his breath, Albus cast a spell at the door which caused Maxie to be pushed back about a foot from it. Glaring at the two men, she crossed her arms across her chest and refused to look at them.

"Maxie, I think it would be best if you stayed here for right now until I figure out what to do. Lucius is a powerful wizard with some standing. He needs to be dealt with so that you are not harmed. He will do whatever he can to get his hands on you again. We believe that he is also looking for your friend Spinelli, and yes, I have him," Albus held up a hand for her to hold her tongue as she had opened her mouth to speak, "he is somewhere safe, but is still recovering from his illness."

"Why can't you just take me to him?" Maxie questioned.

"Because, as I said he is still recovering from his illness and is in a delicate state. When he is better, I will bring you to him," Albus stated, "now I must be off. I still have a Ministry meeting to attend at the Malfoy Manor. I shall try to obliviate Lucius so that he will have no memory of his encounter with you Maxie or of the memories that he was able to access through your mind. Try to rest," he said gently, placing a hand on her cheek and searching her eyes for something she couldn't quite understand.

"Don't worry Albus, I shall take good care of her," Aberforth promised his brother who locked eyes with him for a moment. Nodding, Albus was out the door with billowing robes.

 


	8. Viscose Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers of sorts for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Allusion to character death.

"How was the meeting Albus?" Severus asked the aged wizard who appeared to have grown older in the few hours since he had last seen him.

"Long," Albus looked at Severus warily, "how's your son?"

Sighing, Severus narrowed his eyes at Albus and growled, "Spinelli is…"

"Doctor Doo..umm..Snape?" A tired, squeaking voice called from the other room.

"Driving me insane," Severus finished as he poured firewhiskey for himself and Albus.

"Aren't you going to go to him?" Albus asked as he sat down, swirling the whiskey around in the tumbler.

Severus threw himself down into a chair opposite Albus, taking a long swig of the liquor, "I'm sure it can wait, it's probably just another attempt on his part to procure a computer or inquire of his _friends_ in Port Charles. Neither of which I can help him with. Not that I have a wish to help him with the latter," he mumbled the last part under his breath.

Clearing his throat, Albus refused to meet Severus' eyes as he shifted uncomfortably in the armchair.

"What?" Severus was almost afraid to ask given the look of foreboding that had befallen his colleague's face.

"Well, while I don't know about the computer, I may be able to assist with the latter part of Spinelli's wishes," Albus stated uneasily.

Raising a single eyebrow, Severus inclined his head as an opening for Albus to continue.

Clearing his throat once again, Albus began, "As you already know, the ministry meeting was at the Malfoy Manor tonight. When I apparated, I was amused to find your old friend Lucius in a state of, shall we say, discomfit," pausing, he let out a soft chuckle before continuing. Severus noted that the twinkle in his eye seemed to have been rekindled and wondered just what the old man had seen.

"Upon helping him up, I noticed that he was looking at a spot slightly beyond us and upon further inspection I discovered a young lady," Albus took a sip of his firewhiskey, a faraway look in his eyes, and Severus began to wonder just how long this tale would take.

"Was it my fair Maximista?" Spinelli's voice startled the two men. Albus' firewhiskey sloshed over his hand and he hastily placed it on the table next to him. Glancing in Spinelli's direction, he saw that the young man could barely hold himself upright. He held tightly to the wall and painfully inched his way into the room.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Severus stood abruptly and grabbed Spinelli roughly by the elbow in an attempt to steer him back to the other room. Twisting from his grip, Spinelli nearly ended up sprawled out on the floor, but managed to keep standing on shaky legs.

"I called you as I," here Spinelli's face turned scarlet in embarrassment, "well, I need to…you…know," he looked away.

"Oh," Severus turned away from the boy, his own face a deep red, and gently steered him toward the bathroom where he deposited him and waited just outside the door. A rather amused Albus looked on the scene with a look of bemused content.

Hearing a strangled scream coming from the bathroom, Severus burst in to find Spinelli slumped over the sink, holding his head much as he had, regrettably, seen Harry Potter do on occasion. Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, he attempted to pull him into a standing position, but Spinelli seemed unable to straighten.

"What is it?" Severus hissed into his ear, his heart beat a staccato rhythm that reverberated loudly in his ears in spite of the cold intellect that reminded him he was not to get too close to the boy. He could not allow himself to care for him as a father would for a son; it would be too dangerous for both of them. He understood this on an intellectual level, but it seemed that the scene before him was tugging at his heart. He had only experienced such pain once before – when he had received the news of Lily Potter's death. _Surely the boy isn't dying now_ , he rationalized, _there's no reason for my heart to beat out of my chest._

"Ow," Spinelli weakly replied while blood poured from his nose splattering the pristine sink, leaving fat crimson drops behind.

"Albus!" Severus called sharply. His heart felt as though it would break through his chest as he watched blood continue to pour from his son's nose, bathing the sink in black-red blood. His legs felt as though they would give out under him and he noticed that his reflection in the mirror was a pasty white. _How could one skinny, awkward young man make him feel like this?_ It didn't make any sense to Severus. After all, he had just met the boy; it wasn't as though he had reared him. Surely this feeling of responsibility was purely due to his having cared for him for the past week and nothing more.

When Albus reached the bathroom, he stood in the doorway, momentarily unsure of how to help. When his voice returned he sounded shaky to his own ears, "What do you need Severus?" There

was so much blood and the Potions Master looked as though he were about to pass out. What had happened?

At first Albus' words did not register in Severus' mind. He was consumed with questions as to why blood was pouring from his son's nose and why his own heart felt as though it were about to fail. He barely registered Albus' towering presence in the bathroom and felt faint. Finally getting his bearings, the words broke through his scattered thoughts and he answered barely above a whisper, "A blood replenishing potion would be a good start and a spell to reduce or stop the bleeding." For some reason the spell wouldn't come to his own lips. He felt sluggish and shook.

Albus summoned a blood replenishing potion with a simple flick of his wand and passed it over to the Potions Master who took it in fingers that fumbled with the cap. His hand no longer on Spinelli's shoulder, the boy slumped further, his face buried in the sink and his knees buckled beneath him. Albus began the complicated spell-work to stop the profuse bleeding as Severus struggled to catch the falling boy while not dropping the potion that could save the young man's life.

Spinelli was quickly losing consciousness and felt as though his head were about to implode. He had never been in so much pain, not even that time he had inadvertently shot his own foot. This agony could not be associated with a coma, he had to be awake which could only mean one thing, that everything he had heard these two wizards say was true. He was the bastard son of a wizard and witch, both of whom were dead and he himself was in danger of being snatched away by dark forces.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that and at the moment he really didn't have the energy or desire to ponder his circumstances. He was focused solely on remaining in an upright position and breathing as both were becoming increasingly difficult with each labored breath that he took. His head exploded in pain with each heartbeat and he couldn't open his eyes, but at the same time he could see and what he saw terrified him.

_He saw Maxie standing defiantly between himself and a snakelike man, he appeared to be injured yet Spinelli felt no pain consistent with the injuries. There were others surrounding them, they wore black cloaks and hoods and their faces were covered with hideous white masks. There was a boy present, he appeared to be injured as well and had a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead and a bleeding gash in his arm. A bright green light seared his eyes and Maxie dropped to the ground before him and then disappeared. The vision version of himself fell to his knees where his beloved had once stood and glared angrily at the monster who had killed her. He lifted a shaky hand with a wand toward the snakelike man and_ the vision stopped almost as abruptly as it had begun.

Spinelli blinked his eyes in confusion as he stared up into worried eyes and became aware of the fact that his head was being cradled in the lap of the man who had not too long ago assured him that he was in fact a wizard. _Where was he? Oh yeah, the bathroom. How had he ended up on the floor?_ _Why did his head hurt so much and when would he wake up from this never-ending nightmare?_ Tired of being in pain and bedridden, Spinelli made to lift himself up, but was held back by strong arms.

"Shhh, just lie back, you lost a lot of blood," a surprisingly soft voice issued forth from the man he had come to know as Doctor Doom or The Black Bat.

"Wha…" Spinelli swallowed. His throat was dry and it hurt to speak. The light in the room hurt his eyes and he had to close them to avoid blacking out again.

"Is he alright Severus?" Albus asked with concern.

"I'm not sure," Severus looked up at the older wizard, "this shouldn't have happened. I mean, I cannot understand how this could've happened. He seemed okay and all of the poison had left his system…"

"Um, I think," Spinelli winced as he opened his eyes, swallowing he continued, "I think that I had a vision of…oh no," starting he struggled to rise as panic began to overwhelm him, "Maxie, we have to, I have to, that is… she is in need of protection. I had a prescient dream," he turned wide eyes full of unshed tears to Severus' impenetrable black ones.

"Hush child," Albus knelt beside Severus and Spinelli, muttering another spell that seemed to reach into Spinelli with warmth and comfort. It felt almost as though a warm blanket had been laid over him. He fought the urge to sleep as he had to make sure that these two wizards understood the danger to Maximista that his vision had revealed.

"My friend, Maxie, she's in danger. I saw her, that is I had a vision of her being killed by a," here his memory faltered, "at least I think it was a snakelike man. I'm not sure, but I think she was trying to protect me. And there were these cloaked figures with white masks on surrounding us. And a boy with a lightning bolt scar was also present. He looked as though he had been severely injured."

Albus blanched at Spinelli's revelation. Spinelli tried once more to move, but Severus, a clouded look in his eyes, held him firmly in place. He pulled his cloak back from his left arm and Spinelli craned his head to see what it was that held the man's attention. It was a tattoo of a snake. _What did that mean? Why did the man appear to be frightened for a brief instant before the imperceptible mask he always seemed to wear once again concealed the man's emotions? Did that mean that his vision could possibly have some merit? He remembered having 'visions' as a young child. His grandmother would always tell him they were simply dreams and not to worry, and the times when they had come to pass, she would pass off as déjà vu. Did he truly have a glimpse into the future? What did this mean for Maxie, for him, and for that dark-haired boy with the lightning bolt scar? Was it possible to change the future? If it were, he would do everything in his power to keep Maxie from the fate that his vision had revealed. He would not allow her to be killed by that snakelike monster._

The steely look that came into Spinelli's usually gentle eyes caused Severus to shiver as he carefully lifted the boy from the floor and led him into the bedroom. A quiet, contemplative Albus followed.

 


	9. Muddled Musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for, Deathly Hollows

"You've got to take me to Spinelli," Maxie paced the length of the room once more and pleaded to Aberforth for what must have been the hundredth time that afternoon. He wished that Albus would come back and relieve him. Though she strikingly resembled his sister Ariana in appearance, Maxie's demeanor was almost the complete opposite of his sister's diminutive ways. Whereas his sister would've been content to sit still or find a way to entertain herself, Maxie seemed to be buzzing with the need to be in constant movement and seemed to need company. Aberforth felt that his ears would soon protest from the vehement attack her almost incessant chatter had waged against them. He had slept fitfully the night before, as dreams of his sister had plagued him, and since she had been awake, Maxie had demanded to go and see someone named _Spinelli_. She had spent the past four hours regaling him with what he had come to think of as, _The Spinelli Chronicles_.

"Aberforth, sir, there is a customer downstairs that needs to speak with you," Aberforth could've kissed his assistant's balding head as he ducked out of the room that Maxie continued to pace. He had saved him from what would've no doubt been another retelling of some sort of escapade the pair had been on when they were in Port Charles.

Maxie was getting bored. She had been carted off to who knows where and no one would tell her anything. She hadn't really been able to sleep at all the night before as she couldn't help but think about everything that had happened in the past week since Spinelli had been whisked away. She had spent the week trying to do everything Spinelli himself would have done, but hadn't really had much luck with the computer stuff. She just didn't have the knack for it and had nearly driven Jason nutty with all of the questions she had about what Spinelli himself would have done had he been in her place. He finally shoved her out of the apartment saying that he had never really paid that much attention to exactly how Spinelli did what he did and she should just let it go. He hadn't been mean about it, but had definitely been exasperated. The more she thought about it, she would have to say he had looked sad if anything.

_Well, it won't do any good to dwell on the past couple of days_ , she thought as she whirled around in the tiny room once more and flopped down on the bed. She hadn't been able to find anything on the camera feed from the morgue, just something that had looked like a glitch in the film. In the end, what had happened to Spinelli had pretty much happened to her as well, except for the death part. _Oh my goodness, what were Epiphany and Lucky thinking? They had witnessed her disappearance right before their very eyes. Were they looking for her even now or had the wizard that had stayed behind done something to cover up what Lucius had done?_

A timid knock on the bedroom door had Maxie sitting up eagerly in bed and calling out an anxious, "Come in!" Maybe now she would get some answers.

Albus stepped into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Maxie felt as though she were about to burst from all of the questions that she had on her mind, but before she could voice even one, Albus held up a hand to stop her. Gulping back her first question, she crossed her arms, a determined look on her face let him know that while she would hold her questions for now, she would ask them before he left.

"I'm sure that you have a number of questions for me, but first I would like the privilege of having your audience," Albus sighed heavily as he began to pace the length of the cramped room. Maxie snorted, _he almost sounded like Spinelli. Maybe he did fit in with these people._

"As you may have already guessed by now, Spinelli is not dead," Albus paused, looking directly at Maxie who rolled her eyes and made a 'well duh' gesture.

Clearing his throat, Albus started again, "We, that is my colleague and I, thought it best to fake your friend's death and bring him here. You see, Spinelli is not really who you think he is. As a matter of fact _he_ isn't who he thinks he is."

"If Spinelli isn't Spinelli, well then just who is he?" Maxie stood to her full height, facing the wizard who towered above her.

Eyes sparkling in amusement, Albus continued, "He is a wizard. His real name is Sn..er…Spinnaker. He is, you see, the son of a powerful wizard and a witch." Gesturing for Maxie to resume her seat on the bed, he sat down before resuming the tale. Complying Maxie sat on the edge of the bed, facing Albus.

"His mother died during childbirth," Albus paused when Maxie made a sympathetic sound in her throat, "his father…well…he made some poor choices and he paid the ultimate price," he said evasively, not wanting to reveal Snape's secret, but not wanting to lie either.

"Poor Spinelli," Maxie empathized, picturing a young Spinelli growing up without a mother and a father. She already knew he had been raised by his grandmother, but hearing the story about how he came to be raised by her somehow made it all the more real for Maxie.

"Yes, well," Albus cleared his throat, unsure what else to say.

"Wait a minute. If Spinelli is the son of a wizard and a witch, shouldn't he have some sort of magical ability or something? I mean he is great with computers and a genius and all of that, but shouldn't he be able to um…levitate things or blow them up or something?" Maxie asked all in a single breath, "I mean, I love him, in a totally plutonic friendship sort of way you know," she clarified, "but Spinelli…he's…well, he's not all that smooth and isn't really…well, he's not quite wizard material. Don't get me wrong, he is a wonderful guy and really quite sweet, but I'm just not sure he's wizard material. Speaking of Spinelli, when are you going to take me to him?"

Albus' head was whirling as his mind raced to keep up with the silver-tongued blonde who looked so much like his sister, yet was the polar opposite of her. Taking a deep breath, he began once again, "Spinelli was, in a way, stripped of his magical abilities shortly after his birth, in an attempt to keep him safe from dark wizards who would've raised him to serve a megalomaniac the wizarding world knows as, 'He who Must not be Named', who calls himself 'Lord Voldemort', and who is known by his followers as, 'the Dark Lord'."

"So, he hasn't been able to use his magical abilities because they were taken away from him?" Maxie clarified, her brow furrowed.

"Yes. He was unaware of his magical heritage up until a couple of days ago. His family thought it best."

"So, then why come and get him now?" Maxie asked in confusion. It seemed to her that Spinelli would've been better off back at Port Charles.

"A couple of weeks ago I received information about a young man who had been raised as a Muggle, though he was born a wizard. I was told that, though he was unaware of his wizarding abilities, there were those who still follow Lord Voldemort that sought him out because of his parentage. They believe that Lord Voldemort's return is upon us, you see he has been dormant for a number of years, and that presenting this young man to him as a," Albus searched for the right words, " _gift_ would please him and earn his favor."

"So, the platinum blonde man was looking for Spinelli. Is he one of Lord Voldemort's followers?" Maxie questioned.

"Yes."

Maxie shivered as she remembered the cold look in his eyes and how he had dove into her memories, "Oh my goodness! He, that man, somehow saw into my memories and he saw you and that other man take Spinelli away. Does that mean he now knows that you and that other guy have him? You have to take me to him. I need to know that he's safe," Maxie stood and walked to the door.

"I was able to do some…damage control…with Lucius," Albus coughed. Maxie turned from the door, looking at him expectantly.

"What kind of damage control?" She demanded, her arms firmly crossed.

"I modified his memories of what happened in Port Charles," Albus stated.

"What do you mean you _modified his memories_?" Maxie asked incredulously, a little bit fearful of exactly what that could mean for her. She cast her eyes away from Albus'.

"Well, I guess you could say that I replaced his memory of meeting you and retrieving your memories with a false one that should keep him from pursuing yourself or Spinelli for the time being."

Though she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know, Maxie asked anyway, "How exactly did you to that?"

"It is a spell known as Obliviate," Albus stated simply.

"Oh, and," here she raised her eyes defiantly; "do you plan to do the same to me? 'Cause if you do, I just want you to know that I won't let you. That is, I will fight you."

"No my dear, I don't plan to Obliviate you," Albus chuckled at the fierce way in which Maxie's chin had jutted out. It reminded him for a moment of someone he had known years ago, someone he had grown quite close to, someone he had maybe even loved a bit before things had gone bad.

"I must admit though that I had originally planned to do just that," he held up a hand for silence as he saw that Maxie had opened her mouth to speak, "but given that you appear to have some latent magical abilities of your own and you have in your position a locket which belies a tie with one of the oldest magical families known, I believe that you yourself may be in some danger as well."

"So, you aren't going to alter my memories?" Maxie asked with a hint of trepidation. She didn't know if she could trust this man yet.

Shaking his head, Albus said, "No, I will not alter your memories. I would like, instead, for you to be trained in your magical abilities. I am the headmaster of a school of witchcraft and wizardry called Hogwarts. Though it is highly unusual for a witch of your age to be attending and I would like to commence your training prior to arrival at school in the fall, I think that it would be best for you to attend the school and learn with our fourth years. The age difference would not be as pronounced and with training this summer, your capabilities should be on par with that of the fourth years."

"What?" Maxie's jaw had dropped. She had thought that she would find Spinelli and return to Port Charles with him. What Albus suggested to her had never even crossed her mind.

"That is, if you would like to learn how to use magic," Albus said hesitantly.

In that moment, a world of possibilities that Maxie had never had access to before flew through her mind. _She, a witch, Spinelli, a wizard. They could both be trained to use their magical abilities. What amazing things she could do with magic! Would she be able to change her appearance with a simple spell? Could she really turn someone into a toad? There were a few people she would love to do that to – Lulu would look lovely as a toad._ She almost laughed out loud at the expression she pictured on the rival blonde's face. _Would she like to go to a school to learn how to use magic? Hell yeah._

Turning her radiant smile upon Albus, Maxie answered cheerfully, "Yes, I want to learn magic. But first," she narrowed her eyes, her voice becoming serious; "you have to take me to Spinelli."

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Albus looked at the slight girl who brought painful memories of his sister back to him full force once again, "I'm afraid that that is not possible just now."

"Why not? Is he okay?" Maxie rushed over to the man and sat down on the bed next to him.

"He's fine, it's just that his recovery is taking a bit longer than expected," Albus held up another speech stilling hand, "Severus, the wizard who helped with Spinelli's disappearance, will soon begin releasing him from the spell that has bound his magic all these years. It is a complicated and extensive process that involves the utmost concentration on the part of the practitioner and the patient. I'm afraid that Spinelli cannot afford another setback if he is to be ready in time for classes this fall."

"But I promise that I won't get in the way and I'm sure that Spinelli would like to see me," Maxie bubbled in an attempt to convince Albus to let her see Spinelli.

Shaking his head soberly, Albus said, "I'm sorry Maxie, but if Spinelli is to fully recover, he cannot be distracted. Even by those he cares for. It is imperative that no one disturb the recovery process if it is to be done wholly and accurately."

"But," Maxie pouted.

"I'm sorry, but you will not be able to see him until school begins this fall," Albus gave her a pointed look that caused Maxie to look away and pout even more.

"When does school begin?" Maxie asked begrudgingly.

"In a month and a half," Albus answered cheerfully, the twinkle in his eyes sparkled brightly.

"But that's such a long time," Maxie whined.

"I believe the time will go by rather quickly once your lessons begin. You have three year's worth of material to learn before the fall."

"Ohmygoodness, I only have a month and a half to learn three year's worth of material?" Maxie asked, excited in spite of her disappointment at not being able to see Spinelli. _She would work her own form of magic on Albus to get him to relent. There was no way she was going to wait a full month and a half to see the man she had traveled over half a world away to find, even if she hadn't gotten there in a manner of he own choosing. She would see Spinelli within the week, no matter what it took._

"Yes," Albus answered, ordering his thoughts. He had a lot to do in preparation for Maxie's training. He would trust Severus with Spinelli's care, but, up until this point, hadn't truly considered what he would do with Maxie. She couldn't stay at Aberforth's for the remainder of the summer, he could see that she was already wearing a rut in the wooden floor and the brief look that he had seen on his brother's face spoke volumes of his inability to handle the situation. He didn't want to impose upon his hospitality and knew that the longer Maxie stayed in Hogsmeade, the more likely it would be that she would be discovered _. Perhaps Minerva would be willing to take the young witch in…he would have to call upon her tonight. He would have a busy summer and could not train her himself and besides, it would be better for the young girl to be trained by a witch rather than a wizard. Yes, he would call upon Minerva tonight and enlighten her._

"When do we begin?" Maxie enthused.

"I believe your training will begin in another day or two, I need to procure a suitable professor for you," Albus smiled.

"Why can't you train me?" Maxie tilted her head to the side.

"I have already put off things that should not have been put off this summer and will be working against the clock to get everything done before the new school year begins. I think it would be best if a colleague of mine, Professor McGonagall, were to train you. She is an excellent witch. As a matter of fact she teaches the Transfiguration class at Hogwarts," Albus looked up to see a crestfallen look on Maxie's face which puzzled him.

"Oh," she didn't know why, but Maxie felt disappointed.

"In the meantime," he waited until her blue eyes met his own sparkling blue, "try to get some rest and give Aberforth's floor a break," he coaxed a reluctant smile from the disenheartened girl. Standing, Albus walked the brief length of the room and, placing his hand on the doorknob, he turned for one last look at the girl who looked so like his long lost Ariana. Pulling the door open, he left the room without a backward glance.

Maxie watched Albus leave, feeling slightly lost and isolated. The fact that she was all alone in a world that, to most people didn't exist, suddenly hit her with the force of a hurricane. What she wouldn't give to have Georgie with her. Her sister would've brought some sense into all of this. _Oh Georgie, what do you think of all of this?_ She asked the picture in her locket before closing it upon the silence which reverberated throughout the room.

 


	10. Stubborn Wills

Severus growled as he swept out of Spinelli's room, black robes billowing impressively. He had thought Harry Potter would be the death of him, but that was before he had met his own _son_. He wished that Albus had never been enlightened as to the fact of this exasperating young man's existence. Spinelli had nearly bled to death the day before after having a _vision_ and today he was insisting that he be allowed out of bed to get acclimated. He also demanded to see Maxie and when asked what he wanted for dinner, had insisted upon pizza, potato chips, and orange soda. As if that was a substantial meal! When he had insisted that the boy eat shepherd's pie with a cool glass of milk, he had sulked for a full hour and pushed the food around on his plate. Eating barely half of the contents of his plate, he pushed it away and made to get out of bed when Severus, aggravated beyond what he thought should be wizardly possible, shoved the plate back at the boy and stalked out of the room, mumbling obscenities beneath his breath.

Thinking back to the previous day, Severus wasn't sure that he wanted to believe that someone related to him, however reluctantly so, was prone to having _visions_. _It certainly didn't run in his mother's family and he doubted that his father's Muggle family had such progeny in their family line. He couldn't remember hearing anything about Kathy's family being prone to visions, not that he had ever really taken an interest in her beyond that fateful one night stand so long ago. He hadn't even been aware of her death until Albus had informed him._

_ALBUS! He couldn't believe that the man had, just an hour previous, come to visit and let him know that, though he regretted it, he 'had pressing business to attend to and would not be able to help out with Spinelli.' Pressing business my arse! No, the old man was simply avoiding taking any responsibility for dumping a grown son into the lap of an unprepared and unwilling father. Severus was not looking forward to 'training' Spinelli once he was able to get the protective magical wards off of the young man. If the last five hours were anything to gauge by, Spinelli would be the death of him. The kid would not stop prattling on about Maxie, Cold Stone, or Port Charles. It had been a mistake to remove him from his home, a mistake that Severus might not survive._

…

Spinelli watched as Doctor Doom the 2nd swept out of the room and pushed the plate of bland food away from his thin form again. _He didn't understand why the man had insisted that he eat sustenance other than what he was used to, nor why he wouldn't allow him to leave the bed. He had been lying down for days and, in spite of yesterday's mishap, he felt perfectly capable of getting up and out of bed, albeit a little shakily. What was this man's problem? He looked at him with barely veiled_

_disgust. It wasn't as if he actually wanted to be sequestered in this dark room so far from the more than habitable Port Charles. He had been perfectly, okay well not perfectly, happy in his regrettably pink room. The chamber he currently resided in was nearly the exact opposite, the colors surrounding him were a dark forest green and deep burgundy and held a sense of foreboding, whereas the light pink he had been entombed in at Stone Cold's, while he wouldn't call it cheery, was at least somewhat uplifting, in a sickening sort of way._

_What did this man want from him anyway? If he was supposed to be the heir of some powerful witch and wizard, why didn't he feel at least some vestige of magic? If anything, he felt that he was the complete inverse. While he might arguably be one of the most formidable hackers out there, he lacked finesse, couth, and the smoothness one would associate with a wizard. No, they had made a mistake, even if this was all completely ensconced in his own mind. He was not wizard material. He had to find a way back to Port Charles and to Maxie._

Thinking of Maxie sent a shiver down his spine. Yesterday's nightmare had seemed so real, he could still taste the fear. _Though he didn't quite know why, he had a feeling that she was somehow nearby and he couldn't allow what he had dreamt to occur. He could not let Maxie give her life in his stead. She was too precious. No, he would stop that nightmare, never allow it to see the light of day, if it was the last thing that he ever did._

Swallowing hard, Spinelli whipped the bedclothes off and placed a trembling leg over the edge of the bed. Resting a minute, _why was this so hard_? He placed his second leg on the icy cold floor and, grasping the wall with his hands, he made his way out of the room on legs that, after lack of use, had somewhat atrophied and were buckling at the use. It was slow moving, especially given that the hallway was encased in darkness, and he found that what would normally take only a few minutes was taking much longer. At this rate, he would make it to his destination in a half an hour.

Perspiration beaded his forehead and he sucked in a lungful of air, as though he were on a long hike and starving for oxygen. There was a stitch in his side and, clutching the wall, he doubled over willing the pain to subside.

….

Severus was pulled out of his musings by the sound of stirring coming from Spinelli's room. _What was he up to now? If he is out of his bed in spite of my warnings, so help me,_ Severus muttered as he stood from his chair in the library and made his way to the hallway.

There Spinelli stood, his arms placed on the stone wall in front of him, hunched over in obvious agony. Shaking his head, Severus stepped into the hallway and strode over to the boy, stopping short when he caught snatches of a conversation the young man was having with himself.

"Come on Jackal, it's only a few measly feet away, you can do it. Remember the time when you and Stone Cold were helping to defend the broken masses from…" he trailed off, his face twisted in pain as he attempted to draw in a shaky breath, "Come on, it's only a few feet away."

_So, he was attempting to make his way to the bathroom, in spite of his misadventure the day before,_ Severus shook his head and, with a flick of his wand he helped ease Spinelli's breathing. Now able to breathe, Spinelli stood once again and painstakingly made it the rest of the way to the bathroom where he promptly allowed himself to lean against the door and slump to the floor. Resting for a couple of minutes, he crawled the rest of the way to the toilet and unfortunately expelled all that he had eaten; it wasn't any better the second time around. Tiredly, he pulled himself to his feet and relieved himself. Leaning heavily against the sink, he caught his reflection in the mirror. _Jackal man, you have got to get a hold of yourself,_ he admonished the pasty white visage that locked eyes with him in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed and his black hair was plastered to his forehead. He looked like a mess. He could not face Maximista this way.

Severus paced the length of the hallway between where he had discovered Spinelli and the bathroom two dozen times, muttering about ungrateful brats and their incessant need to do things on their own. On the twenty-fourth pass, Severus stopped in front of the door and opened it with a simple swish of his wand, exposing Spinelli's self-loathing gaze in the mirror.

"It's time you return to your bed," he said with a clipped voice, attempting to keep it snarl free.

Meeting Severus' eyes in the mirror, Spinelli's pleaded with him for a little more time to gather his own strength and walk out on his own. With a curt nod of his head, Severus crossed his arms and leaned against the door, willing to let the younger man attempt to return to his room on his own, yet letting him know that he would be there should anything happen.

Taking a deep breath, Spinelli swayed into a standing position and grappled for a good hold on the door frame. Hauling himself through the door, he used the wall to support his piteously slow progress and stumbled after a few feet. Cursing, he brushed away Severus' aid and gritting his teeth, pulled himself back up and started the slow trek once again. _Oh great, his son was a bleeding heart Gryffindor, just like Harry Potter!_ _Severus swore he would do all in his power to make sure that Spinelli did not end up in that house with Harry Potter, know-it-all Granger, and red-haired Ronald Weasley_. _He knew that Spinelli was not Slytherin material, but would be damned if a son of his, however reluctant he was to claim him, should be sorted into Gryffindor. He would not allow it; it would be too much of a disgrace and an insult after all the pain that the Marauders put him through. No, no son of his would be sorted into the house of Gryffindor. He would put an end to this stubborn willfulness._

Settling Spinelli into bed after the boy had practically crawled the rest of the way into his room; Severus turned a cold eye toward the shivering boy, "Tomorrow we will begin the process of loosing you from the magical bonds that have been placed upon you. It will take a lot of concentrated effort and will be an arduous process. You must get plenty of sleep tonight, so drink this," Severus handed him a vial with a clear liquid in it. Spinelli eyed it warily.

"What is it?" He asked weakly.

"It's not poison," Severus snapped, reminded too much of Harry Potter's own skeptical gaze, "it's a sleepless potion that will ensure you get undisturbed rest for the next 8-10 hours. Drink it up, it won't hurt you."

Spinelli reluctantly swallowed the liquid, grimacing at the medicinal taste and suddenly wishing he had been able to keep his dinner down.

"Drink this as well, I believe that you are rather malnourished due to poor eating habits," at the questioning look Spinelli gave him, he elaborated, "it is a potion for nourishment. It will supply the nutrients that your body is lacking and should aid in returning your strength to you. You will need all of the strength you can muster over the next couple of days."

"Uhm," Spinelli's soft voice stopped Severus mid-stride, "what if it doesn't work? I mean what if it is discovered that I, after all, am not truly a wizard?"

Turning around so that he faced the boy, Severus raised an eyebrow, "What if, after all, it is proven that you truly are a wizard?" Spinning on his heel, he left the room, leaving Spinelli to wonder as he watched the majestic billowing of Severus' robes.

Pondering the question Severus had left him with, Spinelli fell into a dreamless sleep, oblivious to the cold black eyes that watched him as he slept.

 


	11. Twinkle Twinkle Bright Blue Eyes

"Absolutely not!" Minerva's unmistakable voice rang out with indignant grace as she paced in her living room; "Albus Dumbledore, you cannot possibly be serious," her cheeks bore an angry red blush as she glared at the man who sat calmly in an armchair, sucking on a lemon drop.

"I am perfectly serious Minerva. This young woman could be a direct descendant of _the_ Merlin's," Albus turned rarely serious eyes upon Minerva who had suddenly stopped pacing. Knowing that he had finally gotten her full attention, Albus continued, sharing with her the full details of how Maxie had come reluctantly to be in his brother's care and of the locket that she bore which had been passed down from generation to generation of those who were direct descendants of the original wizard who bore the name, Merlin Ambrocious, "so you see, Minerva, that this young lady has to be properly trained and by one of the most esteemed witches of the Order, lest she fall into the hands of those who follow Voldemort."

Flinching at Albus' usage of the name of _He who Must not be Named_ , Minerva shook her head, "Albus, it should be you who trains this young witch, not me."

Holding up a hand to silence her protest, Albus continued, "I am unable to attend to her training for various reasons…" he trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Why ask me? I am an elderly witch; surely she would be better off with someone closer to her own age. The last thing I need is a young, untrained witch in my home," she huffed.

"Minerva, you are one of the best teachers at Hogwarts and I believe that you would handle her marvelously. As a matter of fact, I believe that you are uniquely suited to train this particular young lady," the twinkle back in his eye, Albus' mouth twitched up in a genuine grin as he thought of the spirited Maxie working with the equally spirited, though older witch. They would be good for each other, of that he was sure. If they both didn't kill each other that is…

* * *

 

"You've got to be kidding me!" Slipped out of Maxie's mouth before she could stop herself. The woman was older than anyone Maxie could remember having met, living that is. She half expected the witch to fall dead any moment and wondered how she would be able to teach her anything.

Minerva eyed the short blonde haired blue-eyed vixen before her and narrowed her gaze. Pursing her lips, she crossed her arms and shook her head _. What had Albus been thinking? He had_ _completely lost his mind if he thought that this would work out_. She could tell just by looking at her that this _Maxie_ was going to be trouble.

Stiffly holding out a hand, Minerva waited for Maxie to copy the gesture and both women reluctantly shook hands.  
"I'm Minerva McGonagall, you may call me Professor McGonagall," she stated briskly and turned on her heel, expecting Maxie to follow.

"You will be rooming here in the guest room. Tomorrow we will be getting you something acceptable to wear," she raised an eyebrow at the yellow v-neck and short flowery skirt that Maxie wore and shook her head slightly, "I'll just leave you to get settled," Minerva turned on her heel and left.

Huffing, Maxie stepped into the dark room and took a resigned look around. Definitely not a place she would be spending a lot of time in, she thought wryly. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the single bed and sat down heavily upon it. The room was plain. The walls were steely grey stone, no pretty wallpaper here. There was a table next to the bed which held an old-fashioned kerosene lantern and a candle. Looking toward the ceiling and along the walls Maxie realized that the lantern or the candle would be the only source of light. _Great, living in the dark ages here._

Studying the room further, she noticed that there was another small table that held a basic white basin and pitcher as well as a light orange sponge and rough-looking hand towel. _Quaint_. Across from the bed was a wooden wardrobe and along the far wall there was an antique oak desk with a straight backed chair. The desk held a feathered quill, an ink bottle, and some odd, thick looking paper. Tears gathered in Maxie's eyes. She had never felt so alone or out of place. It felt as though she were in a dungeon and had somehow been thrown back in time _. Maybe she was losing her mind. Perhaps she had contracted the same fever that Spinelli had. Maybe they were both back at the hospital and this was all some crazy dream and she was somehow trapped in this alternative reality, lying in a fever-induced coma. Okay, snap out of it! There is no time for this! I just need to find Spinelli and get us both out of here._

Taking a deep breath, wiping at the tears in her eyes with the back of her hand, she dropped her gaze to the bedspread. The intricate design on the heavy hand-embroidered quilt beneath her was gorgeous, _Kate would definitely be interested in this_ , she let out a choked, half-sob, half-laugh. It was a kaleidoscope of bright reds, yellows, and oranges on a background of deep indigo. It was soft and as Maxie bounced lightly on the bed, she found that the mattress was comfortable. _At least I will be able to sleep well._ Pulling the covers back, she ran her hands over the sheets and discovered that they too were soft to the touch and not scratchy as she had feared they would be. The pillow was not flat and hard either. _Hmmm, the old hag had at least gotten the bed right even if the rest of the room was archaic._

* * *

 

Minerva watched Maxie from the shadow of the hallway wondering how she would be able to train the young woman who was nothing like herself. She had planned to do some traveling over the summer holidays and rework some transfiguration lessons, but when Albus had come to her the night before her plans were suddenly dropped. _Who could this child be? Why had Albus looked so distraught and heartbroken when he had spoken of the girl and her possible connection to the original Merlin? What secrets did she hold?_

Narrowing her eyes, she caught Maxie brushing tears away from her eyes and sighed. _This was not going to be easy. Did Albus realize what he was asking of her? She had never shared her home with anyone and had never had to train an adult in magic. He was asking a miracle of her and she didn't know if she had it in her. Perhaps it was all a ludicrous dream. Pinching herself, she grimaced when she didn't wake up._ Forcing herself to paste a smile she didn't feel on her lips, she briskly entered the room, "Follow me," she said primly. Maxie looked up and swallowed hard.

"Where are you taking me?" She hadn't stood up from the bed.

"I thought that you might like to know where the lavatory is and that you might be hungry. I am not sure how long it has been since you last ate," Minerva's heart jumped a bit when Maxie's watery eyes met her own. It was as though she were staring into Ablus', minus the twinkle. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Minerva turned her back on the girl and walked out of the room.

Maxie wondered at the look of shock that had briefly passed over the old woman's face when she had looked at her, but pushed it aside as she stood and rushed to follow after her. F _or an old woman she could sure walk fast._

As they walked along the corridor, Minerva pointed out the lavatory along the left, the library on the right and then they entered the sitting room. Maxie gazed at everything in wonder. It was like entering a fairy tale. Glancing out the picture windows in the sitting room, she saw stunning green hills. _Okay so I'm not in a dungeon._

Minerva led the way into the dining room and upon taking a seat at the table, gestured for Maxie to take the seat across from her. Snapping her fingers she called for someone named Tearlag and a strange looking creature popped up from out of nowhere frightening Maxie. The creature had big watery brown eyes that seemed to bug out of its head and stringy yellow hair. It had grayish skin and wore nothing but a rough looking kitchen towel. It bowed low before Minerva who gave it instructions to fix dinner. Maxie gaped after it as it disappeared before her very eyes with a loud popping sound.

"What was that?"

"She is a house elf, her name is Tearlag," Minerva stated calmly. A few seconds later, Tearlag popped before them and placed food on the table.

"Will there be anything else Miss?" Tearlag bowed low while eyeing Maxie suspiciously.

"Tearlag, this is Miss Maxie Jones, she will be spending the remainder of the summer with us. Please see that she has everything she needs," Minerva smiled at the house elf and dismissed her.

They ate in silence; Minerva and Maxie watching each other warily until they had finished. Clearing her throat Minerva asked if Maxie could find her way back to her room. Nodding, she stood from the table and left, ready to escape the heavy looks Minerva kept throwing her way. _She had to find Spinelli fast and get them both back to Port Charles._ Lying down on the bed, she let her mind drift toward Spinelli and was soon asleep.

* * *

 

Minerva sat in an armchair with a small fire blazing in the fireplace. Though it was summer, the stone walls of her cottage home kept it cool and she often lit a fire in her room at night. She had watched Maxie throughout dinner and was amazed at how like Albus the girl was, even right down to his quirky mannerisms. She felt sure that when Maxie was more comfortable and had cause to be happy that she too would sport the same damnable twinkle in her bright blue eyes that he did.

"Damn Albus, what are you hiding and how dare you do this to me!" Minerva tossed the glass of bourbon she had been drinking into the fire and watched as the flames grew.

A/N: I apologize for the length of the wait on this chapter. I was swamped with student papers to grade and honestly had no energy left to write. I also realize that this chapter lacks much action and apologize for that. I hope that it was somewhat enjoyable anyway. Please review or PM and let me know what you thought. I am a tad worried about just who will be leaving GH….

 


	12. Discordant Threads

Something tugged his sleeping mind back to consciousness and he fought with all of his mental facilities to remain in the sweet, innocent sleep. He did not want to wake up to what had become a nightmarish reality in which he faced life as some bastard son of a wizard without sweet Maxie by his side. No, he would rather sink back down into the comforting realm of sleep. Who knows, when he opened his eyes again, perhaps everything would be back to normal and Maxie's beautiful eyes would be staring down into his own.

He let out a longing sigh and opened his eyes only to bite back a startled gasp as two stark black eyes peered into his own. Flinching back further into his pillow, Spinelli snapped his eyes shut and turned his head to the side.

"Tsk, tsk," voiced the man who hovered above him, "it is time for you to wake up young Spinelli. I have already begun unweaving the spell that has trapped you in the Muggle world for far too long." With that said Severus straightened up, putting a hand to his lower back and stifling a well earned yawn. He had been up for several hours now performing the complicated spell that would release his son's magic from its incarceration. Though he had been able to do much of the work while Spinelli slept, the boy needed to be awake for Severus to ascertain whether or not his efforts had been successful. The spell was extensive and required that the wizard performing it not stop until it was completed. Even as Severus had addressed his son, he had continued to move his wand in intricate patterns.

Sensing that the wizard's face was no longer lingering so closely to his own, Spinelli moved his head and blinked open his eyes. As the room came into focus before him, he noticed that a sliver of light was coming in from a window off to his right, bathing the room in a light yellow glow. It was the first sunlight he had seen in weeks and he was stunned by the beauty of it. He focused on the rays that caught the dust motes floating in the air. Blinking, he sluggishly took in the appearance of the room that had been his refuge for the past three weeks and saw it clearly for the first time.

The walls were dull, grey brick and the bed he lay in was simple, yet comfortable. The quilt that covered him was tattered and featured a green and black snake-like pattern that seemed to undulate beneath his scrutiny. There was a wooden chair to the left of the bed, near his waist and a table at his head which held an old-fashioned oil lamp. The floor, also dull and grey, had an emerald throw rug that appeared to be warm and comfy. Thrown over the foot of the bed was a thick black robe that looked soft and cozy.

Noting the cognizant gaze of eyes that had only a few days been glassy with confusion, Severus let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Smiling slightly so as to be nearly beyond detection, Severus continued his calculated gestures with his wand while mumbling the words to the spell under his breath. His eyes never left Spinelli's as his son took in his surroundings, bewilderment clearly etched on his face. _So like Kathy_ , he thought as he watched his son, startled by the thought. He hadn't truly thought about her since their fateful night years ago. His mind had been occupied, as always, with Lily Evans turned Potter. She was and would always be the love of his life, but for once Severus wondered what life would have been like had Kathy told him of her pregnancy. _Would he have chosen a different path? Would he have proposed marriage to her? Would he have embraced fatherhood and turned away from the Dark Lord? Would he ever have stopped loving Lily? Even the night that he had spent with Kathy and the attention he had gained from her, as ill-placed as it was, hadn't dulled the ache in his heart that had become his love for Lily. He had foolishly lost her that horrid day when Potter and his buddies had tortured him in the guise of having a bit of 'fun' and had jealously, spitefully used Kathy in revenge for the loss of Lily's friendship._ He almost faltered in his incantation at the absurdity of the thoughts that ran through his mind. Snorting, he resumed his focus on the task at hand, watching his son for a sign that his magic was returning. If he got this wrong, he would have to begin the process again and that would mean resuming things the next day. He did not want to do that.

Catching the narrowed gaze of the wizard who stood before him moving his wand in strange patterns, Spinelli involuntarily shivered. The mage looked positively livid and Spinelli feared that he had something to do with that. Swallowing the panic that threatened to overcome him, he cleared his throat to speak, but a quick shake of the wizard's head had him swallowing his words.

"Sit up boy," the surly wizard commanded and Spinelli scrambled to follow the command, propping himself up on his elbows. He was still a little weak from having been bed-ridden for so long that he shook from the effort and sweat popped out on his pale face beading along his upper lip. His breath became labored and Severus swore under his breath, careful not to break the momentum of the intricate spell. He moved closer to Spinelli and helped him into an upright position, propping the pillow behind him for him to lean against.

Spinelli closed his eyes briefly, trying to rid himself of the sudden vertigo that accompanied his upright position. When he opened them again, he discovered that the wizard had resumed his spot directly in front of him; at the end of the bed and that he continued to stare at him while muttering something beneath his breath and gesturing with what Spinelli assumed was a wand – it looked like nothing more than a wooden stick.

It was disconcerting, but Spinelli found himself staring at the wand in fascination. It was as though he could see golden strands coming from the tip of the wand, encircling him, intertwining with a silver thread that appeared to encase him. He had never noticed it before and stared at it in dumb wonder. _How long had that silver thread been around him? Had it been there his whole life? The closer he looked at it, the more he felt as though it was somehow constricting him. Did it cover all of him?_ He hurriedly checked the rest of his body, noting that the thin silver thread was wrapped around him from head to foot. He clumsily pawed at his chest, suddenly desirous to be rid of the constricting skein.

"Stop what you're doing," Severus snapped, not missing a beat. _What the hell was wrong with the boy? What was he trying to do?_ Spinelli turned startled eyes toward Severus; unchecked hysteria caused his heart to beat frantically in his chest as he continued to claw at the silver string that refused to give way under his frenzied fingers. He was sure that if he did not get it off of him soon, he would no longer be able to breathe. Severus refused to quell his spell even as Spinelli's panicked ministrations threatened to topple the young man. Gasping for breath, Spinelli's eyes were practically popping out of his head and his lips had begun to turn a slight shade of blue. _Shit_ , Severus thought, but then his eyes lit up as comprehension dawned on him, _Spinelli had become aware of the magic surrounding him; the spell was working!_ Now, he just had to get the kid to calm down so that he wouldn't kill himself before he had completed the spell. _Just a little longer_ , he thought as he watched Spinelli sputter and gasp for breath, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish suddenly earth borne.

Delicate lines of gold continued to wrap around the silver, and Severus was delighted as they began to disentangle the silver cords that ensnared Spinelli, loosening him from their grip. Not understanding what Severus was doing, Spinelli fought against the silver bonds, knocking the oil lamp from the stand near his bed.

Panicking because he could not grasp the silver strands, his throat began to close up; his hands went through the silver lines as though he were trying to grip water. Spinelli's vision began to turn fuzzy and black dots threatened to overtake his consciousness as he struggled in vain against the evasive twine. _He couldn't breathe. He was going to die and still the Black Wizard,_ as he now thought of him _, continued to stare at him and mumble some obscure language beneath his hearing. Why isn't he helping me? I thought he brought me here to help me, but I'm dying… Maxie, I love you,_ he thought. Spinelli's lungs burned from lack of oxygen as his throat closed and he collapsed back against the wall that his pillow was propped upon, his skin had turned a morbid shade of blue.

Severus continued with the spell as though nothing had happened, though inside an icy worry gripped his heart. _Was Spinelli still breathing?_ The boy's stillness and unhealthy hue did nothing to ease his mind. He wavered briefly between the desire to check on the health of his son and the almost desperate desire he felt building up inside to remove the spell which had kept his son a virtual prisoner in the Muggle world for far too long. Perhaps removing the spell would serve to revive his son physically as it returned him to the world of magic or maybe this was one of the _complications_ that Albus had cryptically warned him about. Taking in a shaky breath, Severus maintained the spell, determined to complete it, come what may.

 

 


	13. Two Scheming Divas

Maxie paced in the small fitting room McGonagall had left her in. Furious, she swung around once more and nearly toppled the tiny wizard who stood upon a stool attempting in vain to make adjustments on the robes that McGonagall had ordered for the blonde girl. They had been at odds for the better part of the day and Maxie was grateful that the infuriating witch had finally left the robe shop, even if she did so in a huff and muttering something under her breath which Maxie secretly hoped was not a curse of some sort. It had sounded curiously like some foreign language and Maxie was just a little worried about what might happen to her.

"Stand still girl," the tiny wizard who had been working at _Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions_ for a number of years now,admonished as he stabbed a pin at a sleeve of the overly large black robe Maxie currently wore. When McGonagall had said they would going to a magical shopping center in London to purchase a school wardrobe, books, and a wand, Maxie had been thrilled. She was now red-faced and fuming. The old witch had absolutely no taste in clothing whatsoever and subsequently refuted all of Maxie's attempts at bringing color into the equation. And as the money for the school supplies was coming from a fund which supported young witches and wizards who came from underprivileged homes or orphanages, Maxie had little say as to what was purchased for her and she should be grateful for what she got, regardless of the color or lack thereof. At least that is what the elderly witch had shouted as she stormed out of the shop, bright red in the face, muttering darkly. She had said she would be back for her in a half an hour.

"Ouch!" Maxie rubbed her arm where a pin poked her none to graciously, "Watch what you're doing!"

"If you hold still, you won't be stabbed," the tiny wizard glared back at her having lost all patience with the girl. He had been in this business for more than half a century and had the patience of a saint as the majority of his customers were young and by nature squirmy, but she had proved to be beyond exasperating. It had already been fifteen minutes and he still had yet to hem one of the arms of the robe. There were four more robes to go. At this rate, it would take at least two hours to finish the job. He'd be ready to retire at the end of the day.

From the moment she and Professor McGonagall had walked into the shop the pair had not ceased quibbling about everything from how drab the color black was to how the older witch needed to add some color into her wardrobe to attract an eligible wizard. True, he had chuckled at that. Professor McGonagall could use a little color in her wardrobe, but he knew better than to argue with the transfiguration expert about it. She had a few robes which were not black, but it had been quite a while since she had spiced up her wardrobe with something of color. He thought she would look particularly fetching in a peacock blue or hunter green, but dared not mention that to her when he caught the distinctly pinched look on her face that bespoke of anger barely held in check.

Maxie, apparently a distant cousin of Minerva's, though he doubted that, appeared to be oblivious to the witch's anger. She continued to complain and beg for something of color in her wardrobe. Professor McGonagall stoutly refused and brusquely picked out five black robes for her, without so much as a backward glance at the young lady. When Maxie had insulted her own drab wardrobe, Minerva had merely raised an eyebrow and set her lips in a firm line. She would not back down and poor Maxie had unwittingly backed herself into a corner. Before she left the girl to him for robe fitting, she had secretly ordered two non-black dress robes for the girl in a deep burgundy color and a cerulean blue that would suit her perfectly. Apparently the professor, for some unfathomable reason, wanted to surprise the girl. Had it been up to him, he would have let her suffer with the plain black robes the way she carried on. As it was, he would more than likely only succeed in fitting one of the robes and then have to work from that to alter the remaining ones.

"Now, if you hold still for more than two seconds at a time, I will be finished in a few minutes," when Maxie had stilled, he waved his wand and a number of pins fit themselves into the sleeves and hem of the robe. Maxie watched in awe as the pins flew toward her and swallowed back a lump that had formed in her throat. She kept as still as possible and watches as the pins placed themselves expertly in place where the alterations would need to be made.

_Magic was totally awesome, if not a bit frightening. Imagine what she could do in the fashion world with the aid of magic!_ She pictured herself working alongside Kate Howard, designing and tailoring clothing. _It would take just a flick of her wand to put together a fashion line of her own. Something she had been dreaming of for awhile now._ She smiled at the thought and suddenly wished that Spinelli were here so she could share her ideas with him. Frowning, she sighed and marveled at how quickly the tiny magician managed to get her robes altered with magic. He had waved his wand one way and pins had flew as of their own accord where he indicated they should go, he waved his hand another way and a second, then a third, fourth and fifth robe had been draped over her and altered in next to no time now that she had ceased pacing. When one robe had been pinned, another robe took its place until soon all five dreary black robes had been pinned. She then watched as he waved his wand once again and needles and thread marched forward and began to do the hemming. Pins moved when the portion they held in place had been sewn and they dutifully placed themselves into a plump red pincushion.

The 'seamstress' wizard was now smiling widely as he watched the work on the robes, his hands moving about as though he were conducting a full-out orchestra. It was almost as though he could hear music that Maxie could not and she found herself, for the first time since this whole ordeal began, fervently wishing she could perform magic. She couldn't wait to begin her lessons, that is until she remembered who would be giving her those lessons. A dark scowl graced her face and she braced her arms over her chest.

_How on earth was she going to learn anything from that old hag? They simply did not see anything eye-to-eye and Maxie doubted if they would be able to work together successfully._ She watched the merry movements of the needles and thread and vowed to swallow her pride as much as she could to work with _Professor_ McGonagall. _She would become a fashion designer to rival the likes of Calvin Klein and Ralf Lauren through the use of magic and no one was going to get in her way, not even a cranky old witch_. Narrowing her eyes, she formed a plan for working with McGonagall and for drawing the old hag out of her dull, boring ways. _When Maxie Jones was finished with her, she wouldn't know what had hit her. Her life would be the better for it too, yes; she would be down on her knees thanking Maxie Jones for interfering in her monotonous life and bringing living, vivid color to it. Watch out McGonagall, there's a new witch in town!_

…

"Of all the insufferable, thankless, meddling little witches in the world, why on earth did Albus have to pin me with this one? She will drive me to my grave, sooner than Harry Potter and his pals, and Albus will have only himself to thank for it. He'll be needing to find himself another transfiguration professor before the summer is over as I'll be completely out of commission due to stress. Of all the nerve, insisting that I need more color in my life, I've got plenty color. And to insinuate, that little, blonde-haired, bubble-brained, twit of a witch… that I need help of the match-making sort…well she's got another thing coming if she thinks that Professor Minerva McGonagall would stoop so low as to…" McGonagall broke out of her mumbled rant when she stepped out of the, thankfully empty, shop.

Straightening the hat on her head and taking a moment to compose herself, she carefully placed a smile on her face and held her head high as she strode to _Flourish_ _& Blotts_ to purchase this year's textbooks and related supplies. Next, she would head to the _Cauldron Shop_ and then the _Apothecary_ purchasing what was necessary for Professor Snape's potions classes.

Sighing in disgust, she reasoned that she would have to retrieve the irritating witch when it came time for her to purchase the wand. Though it was a bit more expensive than some of the other shops and she had raised a brow in question, Albus had insisted that she bring the girl to _Ollivander's_ for her wand. He offered no explanation for his insistence that she not simply be supplied with the used textbooks, wands, and supplies that had been donated to the school, but had handed her money that he claimed had been donated to the school for just such a situation as this and urged her to keep it all a secret. _He would certainly get an earful from her when he stopped by next._ He had also suggested, with that stupid twinkle in his eye, that she bring the girl to the _Magical Menagerie_ or _Eeylops Owl Emporium_ to choose a suitable pet. Snorting, Minerva wondered just what kind of pet the girl would choose. She would probably squeal at the idea of a toad and jump upon a stool when it came to the idea of a rat. The mere idea nearly had her chuckling aloud.

The witches and wizards she passed along the street gave her a wide berth due to the murderous gleam in her eye of which she was unaware. The shopkeepers smiled genially and sighed in relief when she left after giving them concise directives to send the supplies to her home. The shopkeeper at _Flourish & Blotts_nearly fainted when Professor McGonagall swiveled on her heel and pierced her with a pointed glare, returning after having just left the shop. She feared that she had forgotten something for her old professor's order and remembered with dread the few occasions she had had to serve detention under the transfiguration teacher's watchful eyes. When Minerva had merely requested that an extra quill be added to the order in the crisp accented manner in which she naturally spoke, the shop girl exhaled audibly, baffling the professor who turned a critical eye on the girl. Recalling that the girl had not particularly excelled in transfiguration she assumed that Millicent, if she recalled the girl's name correctly, was simply abashed at seeing her former professor after so many years.

As she left the _Apothecary_ with instructions for sending everything to her home, Minerva resolutely headed back toward _Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions_ having finished purchasing all of Maxie's school supplies and a few things for herself. Hoping that the Madam herself had not had to be disturbed due to the uncooperative young witch, Minerva steeled herself for another confrontation with the blonde-haired vixen and strode into the shop, a witch on a mission. _She would whip that girl into shape no matter what it took. Maxie would enter Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a new woman and an accomplished witch if Minerva had anything to do with it and as Albus had left her in charge of the girl, she would see to it that, not only would she become an effectual witch, but a polite, well-mannered young lady as well._ Minerva had a plan to accomplish just that and a nefarious smile lit her face as she entered the shop. She was ready to take on Maxie Jones and shape her into a whole new woman. _Watch out Maxie Jones, this old witch has more than one trick up her sleeve!_

 

 


	14. Revivification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter offers some history of the spell /curse that Spinelli has been under – the history has been partially adopted from the tales of King Arthur, but have been highly distorted by me (especially as the legend occurred well before my inventive historical account). I do not own the Legend of King Arthur, but I do own the twisted history which has been wrought upon this page.

"Get up!" Severus was so tired that even the tips of his fingers ached. It was a monumental effort just to keep his eyelids open. Still, there was one more important detail to complete in the removal of the spell which had confined Spinelli in the anti-magical, Muggle world for so long. He needed the boy up to complete the spell and Spinelli wasn't complying. _Was there a blue tinge to the boy's lips?_ Severus held his own breath as he bent over Spinelli's prone form and listened for an inhale or exhale, he wasn't overly picky, just some sign that the boy was still breathing. He turned to watching his son's too still chest, then placed an ear directly upon his cool flesh, over the heart and resumed his listening _. Nothing_. _Damn it! This could not be happening now. Not when the process had nearly been completed. All of his work couldn't have been for naught._ Lifting his ear from the boy's immobile chest, he pounded a fist where the ear had rested.

"Get up!" No response.

"Get up!" Nothing.

"Enneverate!" Severus pointed his wand directly at the boy's unmoving chest, allowing it to nearly touch the pale skin as he shouted the word, knowing that it would have the same effect whether shouted or whispered, but allowing his exasperation to momentarily take over the function of his fatigued vocal chords. His voice echoed off the walls as though he had performed a sonorous charm at the same time to amplify his voice.

A spasm tore through Spinelli's prone form as his back arched off the bed and his chest jerked up following the movements of Severus' wand. He waited for the space of a belated heartbeat before repeating the spell.

"Severus," a hand gripped his elbow as he prepared to strike Spinelli's prostrate form with the spell yet again. Scowling, curse on the tip of his tongue for whoever had dared to stop his assault, he turned hard, tear-glistened eyes and found himself face-to-face with Albus Dumbledore.

"Severus," the blue eyes that met Severus' cold, dark ones held the same compassion that spilled from his voice, "stop." The word was said gently, but the hand that held back Severus' wand hand was firm and unrelenting.

"But, he's…Albus," Severus' voice cracked and he snarled in disgust at his uncustomary display of weakness. Wrenching his arm away from the Headmaster, he tore his black eyes away from the compassionate gaze that threatened to break the dam which held his traitorous tears in check. He once again prepared to perform the spell he had hoped would revive his, no, not his, but Kathy's dead son. _He didn't deserve to think of the boy he had spawned through an act of deception as his son. He would not dishonor the memory of the woman who had died giving birth to his child by presuming to have some parental privileges that had been robbed from her. No, Spinelli was Kathy's son; he didn't deserve to hold any claim on the boy. If not for him, she would still be alive. If not for him, his son would still be alive._

"Severus!" Albus, no longer sounding compassionate, stepped between the father and son. Still Severus did not waver, he maneuvered around Albus and attempted to enneverate Spinelli.

"You are going to do more harm than good," Albus remonstrated.

"Impossible fool," Severus spat as he once again readied his wand to perform the spell which had bucked the boy's body in a way that would have been painful had he been alive to feel it.

"Enough!" Albus' voice resounded in the tiny room. He grasped a wild-eyed Severus painfully by the forearms and forcefully removed him from the room, shutting himself in alone with Spinelli. Muttering a quick mobiliarbus spell, he positioned a chair under the knob of the door and cast another spell to keep the door locked and Severus out of the room. Knowing that the wizard would do everything in his considerable power to regain entry, he reinforced his spell on the door with another, hoping that it would slow Severus down long enough for the wizard to calm down and return to reason and give him enough time to revive Spinelli.

* * *

 

To his credit, Albus had not known that the spell he had asked Severus to perform on Spinelli would result in the boy's death. Intrigued, he had thankfully done some further research into the intricacies of the spell and had uncovered some bitter truths. The spell that had been performed on the young infant, presumably to protect him in the Muggle world, had its roots in the Dark Arts and had been used to strip the progeny of one's enemies of power, thus establishing the dominance of one magical family over another. Reversal of the spell, though possible, was extremely difficult and always resulted in death. Entire generations of wizards and witches had been lost in the 17th century due to Merlin's own use of the dark spell upon his enemies ; those he had claimed were practicing wicked witchcraft (prior to its discovery, children of those accused of dabbling in the Dark Arts had been slaughtered mercilessly).

Newborn babies had been taken from their parents, sometimes from upon their mother's breast. A wizard, who had sworn allegiance to Merlin, forsaking the dark arts, would perform the spell to strip the baby of its magic. The baby would then be placed in the home of a Muggle or brought to an orphanage, growing up without knowledge of the magical world from which he or she had been forcibly abducted. Sometimes a child would come into his or her magical powers upon entering puberty and would be placed in a school of witchcraft and wizardry, the implications of which had not been lost on Albus. More often than not, the child would never come into his or her magical powers, but would have children born with magical abilities that could not be explained. This would sometimes skip a generation or two. Those considered Muggle-born were, in reality, born to those whose lineage could be traced back to those very babies who had first been subjected to Merlin's act of _magical cleansing_ in the 17th century.

The records of the magical genocide had very nearly been destroyed and were in fact sparse and difficult to retrieve. Someone had gone to great lengths to cover up what had happened. It had taken Albus weeks to uncover them, and had he not been determined to understand the spell that had been performed on Severus' son, he would never have found them. The history of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had never mentioned this atrocious act. No history Albus had ever come across had mentioned it. Everything he knew and understood about the Magical World had been shattered upon the discovery of what Merlin had done.

Had Kathy's family been aware of this when they cast the spell on the infant? Had they done so to perform a _magical cleansing_ of their own, knowing that their daughter had been involved in someone who practiced the Dark Arts?

In his research, Albus had also uncovered the disturbing truth about the spell used to reverse Merlin's curse: it was fatal. Merlin had taken precautions to ensure that his enemies would be unable to reverse what he had done. He felt strongly that children born to wizards and witches practicing what he considered to be wickedness would grow up to be wicked themselves and sought to keep the world free of their evil influence. Reading Merlin's thoughts had caused Albus' stomach to churn in disgust. He felt tainted having merely read the wizard's thoughts. Merlin was a name highly revered in magic. He was thought to have been the premiere figure of all that was right, just, and good in the magical world. His practices and spells had long influenced magic and were still used today. His very name had become immortalized and many a witch or wizard used the words, "By Merlin," in reverence.

A young witch, by the name of Viviane, who had been marked as 'wicked' because she became pregnant out of wedlock, protested when her boy was taken from her. She vowed to find and restore her son's magic and to destroy Merlin in the process. Her young son, Arthur, had secretly been placed in the home of the king and queen who were unable to conceive a son of their own. They were delighted to have such a beautiful son, whose mother, they had been told, died during childbirth.

Viviane remained a captive in a remote village for three years before she managed to escape. She spent the years plotting her revenge on Merlin and perfecting the reversal spell that she planned to use on her son when she found him. She went from village to village, searching for her little boy, performing the reversal spell on boys her son's age that had been placed there by Merlin's men. Spell after spell proved fatal and she was often chased from one village to another by distraught, torch-wielding villagers.

Viviane's spell finally succeeded in a village near the castle, where unbeknownst to her, ten-year-old Arthur resided, but not without causing the village boy to die at first. She had ascertained that the death could not be prevented, Merlin's counter curse placed upon the child when he was stripped of his magic made sure of that. Another spell to bring someone back from death was necessary. This she had practiced on villagers who had died through disease or by a simple accident and had discovered that reviving someone who had been dead for more than a few hours would lead to little more than an undead body without ability to reason. Again, she had been chased out of villages and deemed mad. Merlin's henchmen sought her and villagers happily pointed out which direction she had taken. They remained, always, a village or two behind as Viviane now practiced the Dark Art for which she had been wrongfully accused of when her son had been taken. Her Dark Magic concealed her from Merlin's men and left the villages she was routed from in thick fog for weeks after she had been forced to leave.

The simple word she had used to revive the ten-year-old boy was _ristabilire_. She had put some of her own life force behind it and the boy was revived with his magic intact. The villagers were astounded, but did not force her to leave. She did not remain for long, however, being compelled to continue her search for the boy that had been stolen from her, restoring young wizards in her wake. Being accepted by some villages, rejected by others, she traveled from village to village in search of her son.

She finally achieved revenge on Merlin through guile. Having learned that Merlin was in a nearby village searching for a young boy of about fifteen who was purported to be a powerful magician, she disguised herself as a youthful maiden and he was overcome by her charm. She led him to a lake and was able to trap him beneath a tall oak tree, but at great cost to herself. Moments before her death, she found an abandoned sword lying near the oak tree, transferred her magic to it and placed it in a stone adjacent to the lake. The only one who would be able to remove the sword would be her son.

* * *

 

Though Albus had found the history fascinating, if not a bit disturbing, he had read through the threadbare remnants of the account in search of only one thing, the spell which would revive Severus' son had Kathy's family placed the counter curse upon the boy. He had found it literally seconds before apparating to Severus', hoping that it would be unnecessary and that if necessary, it would work.

He had attempted to stop Severus from trying to enneverate the boy's inert heart, but Severus had not heard him at first and had cast the spell oblivious to the danger. Logically it should have worked, but magic did not necessarily rely upon logic and Albus knew (having once tried such a thing on a pet as a child) that the spell could cause irreversible damage to the heart. His own pet's heart had been torn in two after his third attempt to enneverate the frog. He hoped that Spinelli's heart had survived the trauma Severus' ill-cast spell had placed upon it.

"Ristabilire," Albus whispered and pointed his wand at the deceased boy, allowing some of his life force to accompany the magic that poured forth from his wand. He ignored the sounds of pounding and thrashing that came from just outside the door as Severus attempted to gain entry to the room. The door shook and rattled from the force of Severus' attack upon it. The chair fell to the floor and the hinges vibrated in their brackets. The door splintered and flew inward as though it had been blasted with dynamite.

Albus had no idea what was happening around him. He was locked in the spell with Spinelli, incognizant of Severus' breach of the door and his entry into the room. His brow was furrowed in concentration and sweat coursed down his face. His eyes focused, unseeing on the unmoving eyelids of the boy he sought to revive. Magic and his very life flowed from the tip of his wand into the stationary figure upon the bed.

Severus fought for entry into the room, cursing Albus for his interference. It was he who insisted that they find the boy and restore his magic to him, all under the guise of keeping the young man safe from the followers of the Dark Lord who had somehow found out about an heir to one of his staunchest followers. This was all Albus' fault. Severus would have been fine, even content, having never learned the truth of what had happened to Kathy. _He would have been ignorant and blissful in his ignorance had the old fool not insisted upon enlightening him to the existence of one Damien Spinelli. He and Spinelli would both have been better off if they had both been allowed to remain in the dark. Spinelli would still be alive. He would still be childless. All would be well._

_But what if Lucius had learned of your son? What if he had discovered him and trained him in the Dark Arts so that he may present him to the Dark Lord as a prize when he is restored?_ A voice, he instantly quieted, niggled at the back of his mind as he finally succeeded in breaking through Albus' spells and found himself stumbling into the room. Blinking back surprise, he watched on legs unsteady from lack of sleep, as Albus paled and crumpled unceremoniously to the floor the instant Spinelli's eyes snapped open and he sat up on the bed, unseeing, gasping for air like a fish that had been dumped out of its tank.

Severus walked unsteadily to his son's side; wavering at first over whether to go to his son or to check on Albus, worry for the son he never wanted inexplicably overcame his normally cool, logic-minded actions and he sat down heavily next to his son. Albus was completely forgotten as he willed his son to breathe.

"Breathe," he begged as he placed a shaky arm around his son.

"That's it, just take a breath…okay, now another," he coaxed in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. Grateful when Spinelli's breathing began even out; he relaxed his grip on his son and finally allowed his eyes to wander over to Albus' supine body on the floor.

Getting up from the bed, he knelt beside the older wizard and fumbled for a pulse. Relief washed over him when he felt a rhythmic beat beneath his cold fingers. Albus' eyes fluttered open and he smiled wryly, holding out a hand for Severus. Pulling Albus to a sitting position, Severus summoned a pepper-up potion for the wizard to help revitalize him.

"What happened?" He asked as Albus drank the potion and stood on wobbly legs, eyes resting on Spinelli who sat rigidly in bed and stared blindly at the wall across from him.

"I came across some useful information regarding the curse that was placed upon young Damien Spinelli here and came in all haste to stop what I had unwittingly started," Albus sat wearily on the bed next to Spinelli and patted his legs.

"Thanks for the terse explanation of how my s…uh Spinelli almost died," Severus' tone held no trace of its earlier gentleness.

"Not almost, Severus," Albus turned sorrow-filled eyes to look at the man who now stood with arms crossed, glaring at him, "Spinelli did die."

"Wh..what?" Spinelli whipped his head around, feeling as though he had just awakened from a deep sleep. His chest ached as though his heart had nearly been torn from it.

Smiling, eyes twinkling, Albus turned to Spinelli, "You have died, my boy, and been reborn a wizard."

Spinelli let his head fall to the pillow and winced at the pain the action brought to his aching body, "Wonderful, the Jackal has presumably passed on from one ordinary life and been reposited in another of magical measure."

"Albus!" Severus scowled.

"It's alright O Masterful Mage of Dubious Intent," Spinelli sat up to face both wizards, unsure what to make of what had been said. _Had he really died, again? Had he been reborn a wizard? What did any of this mean?_

Clearing his throat, almost sheepishly, Albus broke the silence that had descended awkwardly on the room, "Spinelli, the curse placed upon you as a baby has been broken. Unfortunately when its hold over you was broken, your body was unable to handle the stress and you died. I was able to perform an ancient counter curse, and…well, as you no doubt can see and testify to of yourself, you are now very much alive."

Much to their astonishment, Spinelli grasped a good portion of the skin of one of his arms between his thumb and forefinger and pinched himself, hard, "Ouch!"

Chuckling, Albus turned to Severus and noted the look of exhaustion in the man's eyes, sobering himself, he stood and faced the man who was about to collapse where he stood, "Well, there is just one thing left to do Severus and as you look about ready to pass out, I am more than willing to perform the next spell."

"Do you think he's ready for another spell so soon?" Severus' voice was tinged with worry.

"I think that the sooner we get this all out of the way, the easier Mr. Spinelli will rest, not to mention you, Severus," Albus smiled tightly while summoning the chair that had been used to barricade the now splintered door. He positioned the mildly protesting Severus into the awaiting chair and then once again sat on the edge of the bed where Spinelli sat.

"What spell do you want to perform now?" Spinelli was almost afraid to ask, and much to his embarrassment, his voice quivered.

"Nothing that will harm you, I assure you," Albus motioned for Spinelli to lie down.

"As you may or may not recall at one of our earlier meetings, I am the headmaster of a school for young wizards and witches." Spinelli nodded his head, not really sure if he actually remembered having learned this or not.

"Severus," Albus gestured toward the man whose eyes were slit, watching the scene before him with a calculating air, "is a professor there. He teaches Potions. Students call him Professor Snape," realizing that he was babbling, he cleared his throat, "I believe that we mentioned that Severus would be giving you lessons in magic this summer and that you would then be attending Hogwarts, the school of which I am headmaster." Albus waited for acknowledgement from Spinelli, who quickly nodded his head in the pillow again. He still was unable to recall having heard any of this before but reasoned that he had simply not really listened the first time he had been told. He had been through a lot in the past couple of weeks after all. He was determined to listen well now.

"It is our intention that you attend Hogwarts as a fourth year student. I had considered at one point, when I learned of your existence, having you attend as a first year and learn magic as every other wizard child does, but thought it might be too traumatic to, well, to regress you that far," Albus was babbling again and stopped mid-thought when Spinelli snapped up to a sitting position.

"Wait a minute," Spinelli sputtered, "by regress, you don't mean. Surely you don't mean what I think you do. I mean it isn't feasible. It isn't logical. It isn't possible."  
"I see that you do get it," Albus smiled, patting Spinelli reassuringly.

"No way," Spinelli protested, sinking back into the pillow once again.

"Well, you see, we can't really bring you to a school for young wizards and witches at your present age and, while I acknowledge that it would probably be too much to regress you to the age of eleven once again, I believe that it would be far less of a traumatic change if you were to be returned to say, age fourteen, nearly fifteen once again," Albus' smile was once again radiating.

"Much less traumatic?" Spinelli questioned, eyes glazed at the very idea of once again being an awkward teenager at the mercy of other awkward teenagers. Not that he wasn't awkward now, but things had been much worse when he had been a teenager. He did not relish the prospect of being fourteen once again. He reddened as a humiliating memory of a cheerleader and the basketball team flashed through his mind.

"Here's an idea," Spinelli said, a rare touch of anger colored his voice; "you and Dark Wizard here return the very happily adult Jackal to Port Charles where he belongs."

Severus had some of his own painful teenage memories playing at the back of his mind and understood how Spinelli felt. Though he doubted that his son had been through what he had, he knew that from his reaction, it couldn't have been an easy adolescence, "Spinelli, I understand your reluctance to be fourteen once again, but we cannot return you to Port Charles," Severus said with regret.

"Why not?" Spinelli looked directly at the wizard who looked ready to fall over in his chair.

"Because," Albus took up the argument once again, "the wizards that are after you will not stop until they find you. They are wizards who would like to train you in what we call the Dark Arts and turn you over to their fallen leader when he returns. You would not be safe in Port Charles and neither would your friends." Albus held up a hand to silence Spinelli's next protest as he opened his mouth, "Those who are after you will not hesitate to harm those you love. They will not stop until they have you. The safest place for you in the entire world is at Hogwarts."

"Okay, so the Jackal will be safe at this hallowed Hogwarts place, but what about my friends in Port Charles? What's to stop those wily wizards from hurting them? Wouldn't they torture them to try to find me?" Spinelli asked in a panic, thinking about how defenseless Stonecold would be against magic and how vulnerable Fair Lulu and the Valkryie would be, "Maximista, oh no, sweet Maximista…"

"Relax Mr. Spinelli," Albus placed a hand on the frantic boy's arm, "Ms. Jones will also be attending Hogwarts."

"What?" It took a minute for Spinelli's panicked mind to register what Albus had said.

"Ms. Jones will also be attending Hogwarts, it appears that she has some magical heritage of her own," Albus' voice dropped as he mused on her connection with Merlin and what he now knew of the wizard he could trace his own ancestry back to.

"Ooh…Maximista regressed to the tender age of fourteen," Spinelli grinned goofily for a moment before his grin was swallowed in a frown.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked, worry laced his words as his son had just paled considerably.

"I just realized that the beautiful Maximista would be even less attracted to a fourteen-year-old rampantly hormonal, awkward Jackal," he groaned into his pillow.

Clearing his throat, Albus brought them back to the conversation at hand, "As for the rest of your friends in Port Charles, we have sent wizards to protect them and have also sent out rumors that you have been brought back here and placed in an unknown location under my protection. No one will learn of your, or Ms. Jones' age regression, nor do I believe will they suspect that even I would do such a thing. They will search for you and not find you. The last place they would look for you, I believe, would be Hogwarts for who, even someone as foolish as me, would place a young adult at a school for children?"

"Are you sure there isn't any other way?" Spinelli plead.

"I believe this is the best way," Albus offered.

"Will I remember who I am? Or will I regress in memory as well? Will I once again be fourteen to have no recollection of those I came to know in Port Charles or the events that took place in these past weeks? Will I have to forge my way once again through the awkward, hopeless teenage years unaware of happiness which awaits as an adult? Will I remember Maximista?" Spinelli's questions came at a speed faster than could be comprehended.

"You will once again be fourteen, but I believe that you will hold a vestige of your adulthood memories, though I think they will seem as dreams," Albus answered apologetically.

"And you're sure there isn't any other way to keep my friends safe?" Spinelli asked.

"I am sure," Albus locked his eyes on Spinelli's and was unprepared for the tug of Legilimancy that came from the new wizard. Spinelli was surprised as well, but he found that, as he looked at the elder wizard's memories and thoughts, he was regretfully being truthful. Spinelli would once again have to live through his awkward teenage years.

"Um, how long will I have to remain a teenager?" Spinelli broke eye contact.

Blinking his eyes, Albus answered a bit awkwardly, "I am not sure, hopefully not too long. Once Voldemort's followers have been defeated you should be able to be re-aged."

"Voldemort?" Spinelli questioned.

"Voldemort is a wizard who tried to take over the world. He practiced the Dark Arts and urged his followers to do the same. He desired to rid the world of Muggles, so that wizards and witches would reign supreme on the earth. Though he is currently not at large, his followers remain committed to him and his return," Albus answered while Severus looked on with a look of hatred.

"Is he returning?" Spinelli asked.

"Yes, he has already begun to return," Albus answered truthfully.

"What happens when he returns?"

"He will be defeated," Severus answered in a steely voice.

Spinelli held a breath as he caught the look of unmasked hostility on the wizard's face.

"Alright, so what do I need to do?" Spinelli tore his gaze from the angry wizard.

"Just lie back and I shall perform the spell. When you wake up, you will be fourteen. Severus, whom you will call Professor Snape, will begin your training. You will attend Hogwarts when summer is out. It just so happens this year that we are having guests and it will not appear strange for the school to welcome two new people from another country into our midst," Albus' face lit up briefly in excitement.

Lying back, Spinelli closed his eyes and, though he tried to stay awake, he felt himself drifting off to sleep as Albus performed the spell which transformed him into a fourteen-year-old wizard.

Severus was so tired that he thought his body would soon walk itself of its own accord to his bed, but he stayed to watch as Albus transformed his son into a teenager. The resemblance to his teenage self was striking and he found himself gaping at the gangly youth that now lay upon the bed before him. It seemed to him as though he had gone back in time and were staring at himself.

"Albus," Severus sputtered.

"Yes, my boy, I see the resemblance, but doubt that you have much to worry about. There are no photos of you as a teenager at the school which would alert students to his parentage. I will of course inform the staff, as many of them knew you then. They will need to know what has taken place and I am sure that we can trust them with this secret. We must keep him from the Malfoys and others who knew you at his age as I am sure they would be discerning enough to put two and two together," Albus placated.

"We should put a concealing charm on him," Severus countered, "something to alter his appearance."

There was a part of him which thought of his son's safety as he said this, but a much larger part that did not wish to see his teenaged self staring back at him with dark, somber, angst-filled eyes. He did not want to watch his son's life unfold before his very eyes and know that he was unmistakably like himself. Tortured memories of what he had been through as a teenager and what had led him to Kathy in the first place rapidly replayed themselves in his mind _. He would not wish any of that on anyone, well okay, maybe on his worst enemy: Potter. Potter, though, was dead and his death lay partially at Severus' feet as did the death of the one woman he loved, Lily Evans. If not for Potter and his cronies Severus' teenaged years at Hogwarts might have been bearable. Instead, he had been tortured and humiliated at every corner and had lost Lily's friendship and made a terrible mistake that had cost him his very soul. He had also robbed Kathy of her innocence and unwittingly, her life._ Though she had been a willing participant, Severus still felt responsible and as though he had taken her as his Slytherin _pals_ had tried to coerce him to do.

_No, he did not want to watch his awkward, teenaged son picked on by others as he had been. He was unprepared to be a father. He was not ready to watch his son walk through the halls of Hogwarts, jeered at and cursed at around corners. Furthermore, he was terrified that he would treat Spinelli as his own drunken father had treated him. He had been exasperated by the stubbornness of the boy before he had been turned into a teenager, he feared for the boy's safety now that he was a hormonal teenager. If he rebelled at something Severus told him to do, would he hit the boy? Would he beat him and withhold food from him? Would he reduce his son to tears as his own father had done to him?_

As though reading Severus' distraught mind, Albus placed a comforting hand upon the man's bent head, "Severus, you are not Tobias."

Severus raised feverish eyes to Albus' and swallowed the lump of paralyzing fear that had gripped him, "Albus, I don't know if I can do this."

"Sure you can. Remember, you are not Tobias. Mr. Spinelli is not you. His life will not unfold as your own has. He has already lived through to adulthood and by all appearances has made a good life for himself. He will not make the mistakes that you have, just as you will not make the mistakes that Tobias did. You, whether you choose to believe this or not, are a good man who made some bad choices in life. You, Severus Snape, _can_ do this," Albus stood to leave.

"Albus please stay," Severus despised his weakness even as he spoke.

"Alright, I will watch over your son while you get some sleep," Albus helped the man from the chair and walked him to his own room, settling him in his bed. Severus was asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

Albus returned to the room in which a teenaged Spinelli slept and marveled at how much he looked like Severus, though he mused at how much his personality resembled that of Kathy's. Even so, he had recognized the same sense of self-recrimination that Severus had for himself in Spinelli. Both boys felt responsible for entirely too much, though Severus would be loathe to admit it.

Albus had taken the time to look into Spinelli's history before telling Severus he had a son. He had discovered that the boy had made some poor choices of his own. He had gotten involved in illegal activities which Albus could not even pretend to understand, never having taken a course in Muggle studies. He was apparently in the employ of a man of dubious character who was considered a criminal in the Muggle world. _Like father, like son._ Yet, Spinelli didn't seem hardened by this. He somehow maintained a sense of naiveté about him (according to those he had spoken to in Port Charles) which Albus was sure would cause him to scoff and protest if he knew. He doubted very much that Spinelli would consider himself naïve, and knew that the boy would attempt to prove himself otherwise should he be made aware of what his _friends_ thought of him _._ Spinelli also appeared to have an innocent vulnerability about him and a desire to fit in that Albus was a little worried could be exploited as Severus' own desire to fit in had been when he had been a student at Hogwarts. Albus would need to keep a close eye on the boy. Hopefully he would be able to atone for not having done so with Tom Riddle who had become such a monster and for Severus whose self-hatred had turned into a bitterness that pained Albus to watch.

It was going to be a difficult year ahead for all of them. Sighing, Albus sat in the chair and allowed himself to drift off while he kept watch over the son of Severus Snape: hated Potions Professor, spy for the light and valued friend.

 


	15. O Kind Wizard Sir Part I

"Severus," Albus patiently intoned, "I'm afraid that there is no other way. The books, robes, and potions could all be ordered, but young Damien Spinelli needs a wand as well and, as Mr. Ollivander has always been known to say, 'The wand chooses the wizard.' In short, Severus, you need to make a trip to Diagon Alley, with Damien Spinelli."

"But why can't you make the trip with him?" Severus wondered aloud for the tenth time, citing that he had more important things to do, such as stocking the school infirmary with healing potions.

"I'm afraid that I can't, I have pressing Ministry business to attend to," Albus sighed.

"And I suppose that you think it won't draw attention, me escorting a teenager to Diagon Alley on a shopping spree?" Severus asked incredulously.

"Severus, you can always alter your appearance in some way if you choose. The cover that we discussed should be sufficient if you should choose to use that instead. It remains a fact that Damien needs a wand to practice magic with and he needs supplies for school." Albus reached for the floo powder intent upon reaching his destination before he was late. Severus watched as the headmaster was swallowed up in green flames and paced back to the door of his study, eyes glittering with well-mastered anger.

The cover, as the headmaster had so artfully put it, was little more than a well-fabricated lie resting wholly on the presumption that no one would actually look into it as nothing had been done to authenticate the cover story. Severus was to say, should anyone question what a teenager was doing with him over the summer holidays, that he was participating in a student exchange program as a host family. As if anyone would really believe something as preposterous as that. Albus had argued that it would all work out as Hogwarts was to host the Triwizard Tournament (news to Severus) this year. No, he would disguise himself for the trip to Diagon Alley with Spinelli, when the teen awoke.

* * *

 

_Where am I?_ Spinelli wondered. The last memory he had was of ascending the stairs at his grandmother's house to his room and crashing after playing one of his favorite computer games. _How had he gotten from there to this dark, stone dungeon of a room?_ Looking around, cautiously, he realized that, not only was the room different, but his computer was missing as well. _Just what the hell was going on?_

He stepped carefully out of the bed, his bare feet freezing upon contact with the cobbled floor. He was terrified and utterly curious at the same time, wondering if this was all a dream that his mind had conjured up or if he had been kidnapped. _Though if he had been kidnapped, wouldn't he have been tied up? Or, maybe I've been locked in,_ he thought as he tried the door, breathing in relief when it opened for him. _So, not locked in, but where exactly am I?_ He took a tentative step forward, shivering as he realized just how cold he was. _What have I gotten myself into now_? He wondered as he continued down the dark hallway which held odd-looking paintings, some that seemed to be moving. He could've sworn that he heard one painting of a man sitting upon a horse mutter something as he passed. _Perhaps I shouldn't have had that last slice of pizza before bed_ , he thought as he continued his trek, fully convinced that it was all a dream. _Pictures couldn't move and talk after all and everything was way too weird to be real. What exactly was his subconscious trying to tell him in all of this? Maybe he would wake up when he learned whatever it was he was supposed to learn._

* * *

 

Severus knew the minute that Spinelli had awakened and left his room as he had left an alarm in place to alert him to any change in the young man's condition. _Would he remember everything that had happened?_ Severus wondered as he prepared to meet the de-aged youth.

Nothing could have prepared him, however, for coming face-to-face with the near twin of his teenaged self, minus the greasy hair. Drawing in a quick breath, he greeted his son with a smirk, "Did you sleep well?"

Spinelli wasn't sure what he had expected to happen in this dream-like world, but it certainly wasn't meeting a cloaked man with a British accent in a dumpy living room. "Who are you? Where am I? What have you done with my grandmother?" The questions spilled out of him as he hastily drew the robe he had acquired in the bathroom around himself, suddenly feeling very vulnerable in front of this dark, cloaked man.

Quirking a brow, Severus answered in clipped tones, "Severus Snape, Professor Snape to you, Spinner's End, that's in England, and absolutely nothing, I'm sure she's safe at home."

"Alright, so how did I get here?" Spinelli processed the information, trying to wrack his brain for any memory he had of the place he was in and the man who stood in front of him.

"Do you not remember?" Severus narrowed his eyes as he drew nearer to examine Spinelli.

"No, well, at least I do not believe I remember whatever it is that you think I am supposed to have remembered," Spinelli flinched away from Severus' narrowed gaze.

"What is the last thing you remember?" Severus asked a little harsher than intended.

"I remember going up to bed last night, playing my newest computer game, having a last slice of sublime, cheesy pizza, and crashing," Spinelli summarized.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus once again cursed Albus and motioned for Spinelli to take a seat on his timeworn sofa, seating himself in the armchair across from his son. Placing his elbows on his knees, he waited until Spinelli returned his gaze, "It appears as though you have lost, hopefully temporarily, the better part of your memory of the last half decade of your life. You remember your name?" Spinelli nodded. "But you don't remember anything beyond the fourteenth year of your life?" Spinelli shook his head wondering what this stranger was talking about, how could he remember something that hadn't even happened yet?

"What day is today?" Severus was curious.

"Friday, I think. The 20th of June," Spinelli answered with a puzzled look on his face.

"And the year?" Severus prodded, noting that it was indeed Friday, June 20th.

"2003," Spinelli answered.

"The year is 2008," Severus returned.

"But, how…I mean, it can't be, that's not possible," Spinelli sputtered, confusion clouding his eyes.

"Pay attention to what I am about to tell you as I do not wish to have to repeat it again," Severus waited until Spinelli's downcast eyes met his own and then he told the boy how it had been discovered that he was the son of a follower of the Dark Lord and an innocent young witch who died during childbirth. He had been stripped of his magical abilities as a baby and shipped off to America where he was raised by a friend of the family who knew nothing of magic.

The news of his existence had been discovered by both those who followed the Dark Lord, waiting for his return, and those who followed the Order of the Phoenix. It was imperative that he be returned to his rightful heritage by those of the _light,_ for lack of a better term, for his safety and the safety of those he loved. Those who followed the Dark Lord, Death Eaters, were interested in training him in the dark arts and presenting him to the Dark Lord upon his return as he was reputed to be the son of a loyal Death Eater.

Anyone who turned him over to the Dark Lord would surely be highly rewarded and honored because of a prophecy which said that a son was to be born to one of his loyal servants and that he was meant to be trained by the Dark Lord himself. Severus did not share with Spinelli that he believed the Dark Lord would attempt to kill the son mentioned in the prophecy as he would view him as nothing more than a rival for his power. He desired to live forever and did not like the idea of his position being usurped by anyone, whether he had trained that wizard or not.

Spinelli's head was spinning. _He was a wizard. He had a father who followed after a Dark Lord and a mother who died when she had given birth to him. Everything he had grown up knowing had been a lie. His life was a lie and apparently he had magical abilities._

"Are you paying attention?" Severus growled when Spinelli's eyes seemed to lose their focus. Spinelli swallowed and nodded, returning to the conversation at hand.

"Good, now as I was explaining, because you are to be trained as a wizard and will be attending Hogwarts this year as a fourth year student, Professor Dumbledore and myself thought it best that you attend school as a fourteen-year-old rather than a twenty-year-old. So, last night we performed a spell that returned you to the age of fourteen. We were unsure whether you would retain the memories of the intervening years and it appears as though you have not," Severus looked almost apologetic as he explained the last part, knowing how difficult it was to understand and believe. He had just told his son that there were five years of his life which he didn't remember and that the life that he had known was little more than a prevarication arranged by a family he didn't even know and would probably never get the chance to know.

"What of the last five years of my life. I mean am I attending Cal Tech? Where do I live? Hopefully not still with Granny, I love her, but well…" he trailed off and his eyes suddenly lit up, "Do I have a girlfriend?" He was practically bouncing out of his seat in anticipation of the answers.

"I have no idea what Cal Tech is. I believe you lived in a place called Port Charles, not with your Granny, but with someone you called Stone Cold. As far as a girlfriend, I am not sure, but you did talk about a girl whom you called Maximista. You were working with, what do you call them? Computers? And I believe you attended university. When I first saw you, you were working on some strange contraption called a….blender?" Severus supplied what little details he knew from Spinelli's life in Port Charles, hoping that it would help to jar the boy's memory.

"So, let me get this straight," Spinelli cleared his throat, rising from the sofa and pacing in front of Severus, "I am really an adult who is some sort of appliance, computer fixit guru, but have been turned back into a fourteen-year-old kid so I can attend some wizarding school; I am a wizard, but grew up to become a computer geek in Tennessee with Granny Miriam because my family took my powers away when I was a baby; my dad was some powerful dark wizard who followed some crazy dark lord and my mom was an innocent witch who died when I was born; and I'm just now being returned to the wonderful world of magic to fulfill some sort of cryptic destiny; ah, and there is a slim possibility that I may have a girlfriend who I don't remember?"

Severus smirked, nodding. He had embellished some, but had the gist of what had happened.

"In other words, my entire life has been nothing but a fictional representation of what should have been my reality, which, in reality, is what any normal person would consider to be nothing more than an absurd mythical fairytale of sorts fabricated by an unstable mind," Spinelli sank down onto the couch, his head in his hands as he contemplated his sanity.

"You are not crazy," Severus said after a minute. Spinelli raised his stricken eyes and Severus continued, "Magic is real, it has always existed, but has been, for the most part, hidden from what we call Muggles (people without any magical abilities). Had the authorities at the Ministry of Magic been made aware of your birth, you would have been raised with a magical family, albeit hidden from your traitorous father, and all of this would be unnecessary."

Seeing that Spinelli was still having a difficult time accepting the truth, Severus decided to try something else. He stood, drawing his wand from his billowing robes and pointed it at his dilapidated hearth. Whispering, "Incendio," he aimed his wand and a healthy fire began to flicker in the fireplace.

"Wow," Spinelli's eyes had widened in amazement and a smile of disbelief graced his lips. Smiling, himself, Severus turned his wand to the candelabra that hung above his head and illuminated the candles on it with the same incantation. Spinelli looked on with even more amazement, his mouth gaping, "Magic is real. Can you teach me to do that?"

"And more," Severus nodded, replacing his wand within the folds of his robes, "but first we have to get you properly attired and to do that, we need to make a shopping trip to Diagon Alley which is located in London."

Spinelli's smile dropped and he played with the hem of the threadbare bathrobe he wore, "I don't have any money."

"Money is not a problem," Severus said, "go get cleaned up, we will have breakfast and then we will go to Diagon Alley to purchase what is needed to start you off in the wizarding world."

Much to Severus' surprise, Spinelli sprang from the dingy sofa and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Severus extracted himself from the boy's enthusiastic embrace, trembling slightly. _He couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged by anyone. Surely it had been sometime before he had met Kathy, when he and Lily were still on talking terms, before he had ruined everything with the love of his love by calling her that hated name._

"Thank you O Kind Wizard Sir," Spinelli sprinted from the room to get ready, hoping that there was something he could wear as he was unsure whether what he had worn as an adult would fit him now that he was a teenager. _Maybe going to a wizarding school would be different than the high school he currently attended or rather had attended when he was originally fourteen; it sure was going to be hard to remember that he had already lived through his teen years. Maybe he wouldn't be picked on and called a 'geek' at the new school. Maybe he wouldn't be stuffed into lockers by the jocks or beat up by them. Were there even such things as jocks and geeks at a wizarding school? Maybe he could even have a girlfriend. Maybe he could even be 'cool' at this new school. Well, maybe that's going a bit too far…but still, there were so many wonderful possibilities to consider with this 'new' life. He hoped that he would fit in better than he had at the school he'd left behind._

Severus watched Spinelli's retreating form, frowning. _He couldn't remember the last time he had been called 'kind'. As a matter of fact, he doubted that he had ever been called 'kind' in his life. He just wasn't a kind person, never had been and probably never would be. To be kind was a sign of weakness and naïveté. No, Severus Snape, was not a kind man. No one, aside from Lily Evans and Kathy Spinnaker, had shown him any real kindness. It was not something that came naturally to him and he had not shown kindness in return, but he had loved Lily, in his own, unkind way and had taken advantage of Kathy's kindness when Lily had spurned him for Potter. He would have to correct Spinelli's misconception and soon. He could not have the kid hugging him at school and proclaiming his kindness; it would ruin his hard earned reputation, such as it was. He didn't want other students thinking of him as 'kind' and hugging him at will. No, it simply would not do to have Spinelli think of him as 'kind'. Kathy and Lily had been kind. What had their kindness toward him gotten them? It had gotten them killed. No, it would not do for him to be kind nor to be thought of as kind._

Sneering, Severus left the sitting room and pulled a worn robe from his closet for Spinelli to wear on their trip to Diagon Alley. _He would show Spinelli just how wrong he was about his assessment of him and would enjoy doing so. He wasn't called a greasy git for nothing._


	16. O Kind Wizard Sir Part II

"Try to keep up," Severus sighed heavily, keeping up a quick pace through the busy streets of London. He didn't want to be in the midst of Muggles for any longer than he had to be and Spinelli was having a hard time following him. He had almost lost the boy twice that morning and had to squelch the urge to pull him through the streets by his ear or put a leash on him. They were very tempting ideas and Severus harbored them for quite some time and was very near ready to apply one of them out of sheer frustration when Spinelli suddenly stopped walking to gawk at some new sight. At the rate they were going, it would be nightfall before they arrived at their destination.

"Stop gawking," Severus lightly thwacked the back of Spinelli's head impatiently and pulled on his arm to propel him forward, nearly toppling them both. "Either you get moving right this instant, or I will pull you there by your ear," Severus' whisper was between a growl and a bark. Spinelli looked at the man and swallowed hard, Severus looked ready to explode and his face was mere inches from his own. He had no doubt that the wizard would make good on his threat. As it was, the incensed man continued to hold onto Spinelli's arm in a vice-like grip that was sure to leave a bruise as they made the rest of their way to the Leaky Cauldron. One look at the pair had Muggles scrambling to get out of their way, as Severus had a murderous look on his face.

* * *

 

"Miss Jones, under no circumstances will there be a repeat of last week's performance at Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions when we are at Ollivander's. If you so much as utter a single word without prompting, I will march you out of there by your ear," Minerva and Maxie had been unable to finish their shopping trip the week before because Ollivander's had been closed for renovations. Minerva had not relished the idea of making another trip to Diagon Alley, but as Albus was adamant that Maxie receive a wand from no one else, she had little choice.

She and Maxie stood in front of the entrance to Diagon Alley. Minerva's face was stern and her tone was cutting, her eyes flashed and her nostrils flared as she glared at Maxie. Maxie glared right back, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously, her own nostrils flaring, and her hands clenched into fists at her side. Hand poised at just the right brick, Minerva waited until Maxie nodded in agreement.

_The past week had been a trying one for Minerva who had begun Maxie's lessons in potions, theory of magic, and history. The girl would find any and all excuses to get out of studying and Minerva often found her drawing idle pictures of strange looking clothing on her parchment rather than taking notes. They had gotten into at least sixteen different arguments; Minerva had lost count, about the merit of studying theory before practice. Minerva insisting that without theory the practice would have no basis, Maxie arguing that without practice the theory meant crap and that it was too difficult to understand unless she could actually do it. Minerva had refused to allow Maxie to use her wand and the girl had pouted and tried to manipulate her until she had threatened to lock the girl in her room. Even so, Minerva found her to be a quick learner and she had all but mastered the first year of potions. Even Severus would be proud. Perhaps one day Maxie Jones would give him a run for his money. She was least adept at the lessons that involved listening and note taking, which were theory and history, but Minerva had plunged ahead and she had passed year one, barely. Minerva would be relieved when she had a wand of her own and they could begin the lessons on transfiguration, charms, and spell casting. She had already begun teaching her how to defend against the dark and she seemed to have an aptitude for that as well, even though she couldn't put the theory into practice until she had a wand. Minerva had a feeling she would be an exceptionally good practitioner of magic, especially in the arts of transfiguration and potions. That is, if they lived through the next ten weeks without strangling each other._

* * *

 

"Will that be all Professor Snape?" The clerk at the apothecary asked as he packaged up Severus' sale, eager to have the unpleasant man out of his shop. He may be the apothecary's best customer and the most renowned potions master of their time, but the man was not known to be very sociable and people tended to flee from his presence more often than not. The clerk was very curious about the black-haired boy who accompanied the professor and had almost enquired after him, but one look at the scowl on the professor's face had snuffed out that idea. Smiling pleasantly he handed the package to Severus who shrunk it and handed it to the boy who looked at it as though he had been handed a snake.

"Stop ogling it as though it were about to bite and put it in your pocket," Severus snapped as they walked out of the shop.

"Where are we going next?" Spinelli asked pleasantly, not about to let the dour wizard dampen his first experience in the magical realm. He looked at all of the shops they passed, eager to check out each and every one of them, but deigning to express his desire to 'Professor Surly', knowing that he would be denied.

"Let's see, we have gotten your robes, your books, parchments, quills and ink, your ingredients and cauldron for potions," Severus ticked off on his fingers, "you are allowed to have a pet, but I think it best if we get that closer to start of term, so I believe that what we need to get next on this trip is a wand." _He grimaced when he realized what had come out of his mouth. What had compelled him to mention to his son that he could have a pet? Perhaps Spinelli would have no interest in a pet. Severus had made do without one, the school owls had been sufficient for his owling needs. Maybe Spinelli had been only half-listening as he appeared to be mesmerized by his surroundings yet again. Maybe he hadn't heard the mention of a pet at all._

"Really? I can have a pet?" Severus groaned at the look of excitement on Spinelli's face.

"As I said, closer to the start of term," Severus was starting to get a headache. It was going to be a long ten weeks with a teenage boy to ready for the fourth year of school. Spinelli's eager exuberance over all of the new encounters was going to wear him out by the end of the summer.

* * *

 

_Is that Severus Snape up ahead? Who is the boy with him?_ Minerva increased her brisk walk, hoping to catch up with the two. Maxie practically had to jog to keep up with her usual pace and found herself running out of breath when Minerva suddenly started walking at an even quicker pace. _Was the witch trying to give her a heart attack?_

"Can we slow down?" She panted, "Please?" She added when it appeared as though Minerva hadn't even heard her question.

"What?" Minerva stopped and turned to a panting Maxie.

"Are we in a race or something?" Maxie asked as she waited for her breath to even out. Minerva resumed walking, but at a slightly slower pace and Maxie followed, slightly unnerved. _She knew that Professor McGonagall had been unhappy with her on their first visit to the magical shopping center, but she hadn't expected the witch to be this angry and uncommunicative with her._ Trying not to feel hurt, Maxie steeled herself and kept up with McGonagall as best she could, wondering what had caused the woman to walk so quickly. _Was the older witch trying to rid herself of one Maxie Jones? No, wait a minute…_ Maxie tracked McGonagall's gaze and discovered that she was looking intently at the back of two black-haired wizards, one of whom looked vaguely familiar. _Was that Spinelli? No, it couldn't be. Not unless he was a teenager._ Maxie soon overtook McGonagall's stride in her eagerness to see if the boy ahead was her friend and find out who he was with and why he looked so young. _Just what the hell is going on here?_

* * *

 

Severus felt as though someone was watching him. His eyes sought the reflections in shop windows and he bit back an angry utterance when he realized that Minerva and a young blonde-haired witch were following Spinelli and him. _Great, just what I need, Minerva's prying._ There was no way the transfiguration professor would believe the cover story that Albus had concocted. _Maybe they weren't headed in the same direction. Maybe she hadn't spotted him and the feeling of someone watching was just paranoia._ Severus deliberately increased his pace and was happy to note that Spinelli was keeping up. They would be at Ollivander's soon and, if all worked out, Minerva and the girl with her would pass by without a backwards glance.

* * *

 

Minerva and Maxie arrived at Ollivander's out of breath just a few steps behind Severus and Spinelli. The four stared at each other, panting.

"Professor Snape," Minerva greeted coolly, eyeing the wizard with judgment, her eyes wandering from the professor to the young boy in his charge. She did a double-take. There before her stood the spitting image of Severus as a teen right down to his wary eyes and, thanks to the borrowed robe, the shabby clothing, she did note that his hair appeared to be a lot less greasy than Severus' at his age. _What was the meaning of this? Who was this boy?_

"Professor McGonagall," Severus returned the greeting just as coolly, inwardly groaning when he recognized Maxie Jones from Port Charles. Albus had mentioned that she had nearly been captured by Lucius and that he had made arrangements for her education as well. He hadn't, however, expected to bump into her in the escort of Minerva whilst shopping. By the look on Minerva's face, Severus knew that it would be pointless to use the cover story Albus had given him. She had recognized the embodiment of his teen self in an instant.

"Spinelli!" Maxie squealed and ran over to her friend, throwing her arms around him. Even though he looked different, as though he had been somehow de-aged, she had recognized him immediately. He, however, did not appear to recognize her judging by the awkward hug he returned. She backed away from him slowly and glared at the man who stood next to him, he looked faintly familiar. He was the man who had helped to stage Spinelli's death and spirit him away from Port Charles. _What had he done to her Spinelli?_

Severus found himself getting slightly uncomfortable under the glare of the only two women in the shop. Ollivander had turned his shop's sign to read, "Closed," and locked the door, determining that it would be best if none of what was about to be said would be overheard. He busied himself behind his counter, looking at the two strangers and laying possible matches for them on the counter. Trying not to eavesdrop, he went into his back room to choose some more wands to bring out front.

"What have you done to him?" Maxie had a fist on her hip and was jabbing a finger in Severus' direction. There was a touch of fire in her eyes, which reminded Severus of someone else whom he couldn't quite place, "Why doesn't he recognize me?"

"You must be Maxie Jones," Severus chose to ignore her questions. She lifted her chin haughtily, the demand for an answer to her question plain on her face. She would not back down and Severus perceived that she could be quite an adversary should she choose to be.

"Who is the boy Severus?" Minerva interrupted the stand-off between her protégé and her former student, knowing that neither would be the first to back down.

"His name is Spinelli, Damien Spinelli," Maxie supplied, not tearing her death-glare from Severus, "and this man has done something to him. He was one of the men who took Spinelli from the hospital at Port Charles, where I'm from. And, he's not a boy, he's a man, at least he was a couple of weeks ago. What have you done to him?" She was so angry that sparks practically flew from her eyes and her nostrils flared impressively, reminding him of an angry Minerva.

Understanding dawned on Minerva and she pursed her lips, she would get answers from Albus tonight. "Well, Severus, are you going to explain what has happened to young Spinelli here or would you like me to?"

"There is nothing to explain. I have only done as Professor Dumbldore instructed," Severus was unwilling to capitulate so easily. He raised an eyebrow.

"If you don't, I will," Minerva countered, raising an eyebrow of her own.

"As you wish," Severus snarled, before turning his attention back to Maxie, his son's Maximista, "What has _happened_ to your friend Spinelli is that he has been returned to his fourteen-year-old self. I don't know if Professor Dumbledore has explained to you why we removed Spinelli from Port Charles," Maxie nodded impatiently, urging him to get on with explaining why a younger version of her friend was standing in front of her void of any recognition on his face.

Clearing his throat, Severus began explaining to her that in order for Spinelli to attend Hogwarts, he had to become fourteen once again to fit in with the other students. He didn't recognize her because for some reason his memories beyond the age of fourteen were missing.

"Well, you will just have to get them back then," Maxie had crossed her arms around her chest wanting to see a spark of recognition in her friend's eyes. Not willing to take no for an answer, she waited.

"I don't know if that is possible," Severus answered truthfully.

"Anything is possible," Maxie countered.

"Well, you see, in order to return his powers to him, I had to perform a rather difficult spell that nearly cost him his life and I think that, in combination with the de-aging spell, is what his memory loss is attributed to, it was like he had been born again. It is doubtful he will regain any of his former memories."

"Spinelli, you just can't forget me," Maxie walked over to him. Cupping his face in her hands, willing him to remember her, she looked into his eyes, tears threatening to fall from her own. It seemed they stood that way forever, living out centuries in each other's eyes, drinking in the sweet nectar of life deferred. Locked in his gaze, Maxie found herself drawn into his mind, even as she found the thought ridiculous, she knew it was true. She was ensconced in Spinelli's mind. Finding herself in another world, she smiled in delight as she was swept into the arms of the version of Spinelli that she knew and, even if she admitted it only to herself, loved. They were back in Port Charles, in the park, enjoying a picnic lunch complete with a red-and-white checkered blanket and pesky ants.

" _Spinelli, what's all this?" Maxie laughed, settling down on the blanket next to Spinelli._

" _Just something I've dreamt of doing with the lovely Maximista for quite some time now." Spinelli kissed her on the cheek and she blushed._

" _How long have you been planning this?" She teased._

" _Oh, I don't know," Spinelli frowned, deep in thought, "since the stars began to sing your praises," he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, "and the moon began to proclaim your beauty with its own waning light," he nuzzled her neck, sending tingles of delight down to her toes, "and the sun began to blush immodestly, in jealousy of your charms." His lips lingered on hers and it was she who initiated the kiss, deepening it, indulging in the moment, savoring the honeyed taste of his lips and the spice of his tongue. Yearning for the kiss to last forever, she reluctantly slowed down, relishing the feel of his body pressed tight against hers, giving, but not taking, taking, but not using. It was perfect, he was perfect._

_The universe fled away. Stars became pinpricks of light, the sun little more than a shadow, the moon hid, until only they remained, locked in their timeless embrace upon a red-and-white checkered blanket. Hearts beating in sync, keeping time even as time stood still holding its breath, they nourished each other. Spinelli indulged Maxie's ravenous appetite with tender kisses and Maxie fed him with her passionate ones._

* * *

 

"Maximista?" Spinelli broke from their deep gaze in wonderment, the memory of their kiss burning his lips.

Gasping at the sudden jolt back to reality, Maxie touched trembling fingers to her inflamed lips and backed away from Spinelli, feeling as though she had just been torn from his mind and thrust out into a cold, uncaring world. She shivered at the loss of him.

"Do you remember me?" She asked tentatively, wondering if the kiss had been real, if the throbbing of her lips was due to the kiss she had shared with Spinelli while entrapped in his mind or if the kiss had been enacted physically at the same time.

"How could I forget you, my heart?" The teenage Spinelli blushed crimson, suddenly embarrassed when he became aware of their adult witnesses.

Smiling in triumph, Maxie turned to Severus, daring him to say something. Spinelli had remembered her, against all odds and she wasn't afraid to say, _I told you so_.

"What just happened?" Minerva asked.

"The world turned upside down," Maxie answered, beaming.

"I believe they just entered Spinelli's mind," Severus answered more elaborately, remembering when he had attempted to legilimize his son before his powers had even been restored. He had found himself in his son's mind and it had been Spinelli who had released him, not the other way around.

Spinelli and Maxie had been staring into each other's eyes for what amounted to barely thirty seconds for Severus and Minerva and the eavesdropping Ollivander, but Severus knew that it had felt much longer for the couple who kept casting sideways glances at one another. Severus had no doubts as to what must have occurred between the two while in the confines of his son's mind. He was impressed that his son had been able to access his memory of the girl. They would need to be separated over the summer while they were being trained and, if Maxie were to attend Hogwarts, she too would need to be turned into a fourteen-year-old. He wondered if she had come to that conclusion yet and didn't envy what lie ahead for Minerva as she would need to convince the girl that there was no other way. He somehow doubted that she would be eager to be fourteen again, for no other reason than the fear of losing Spinelli.

Smiling ruefully, he turned to Ollivander indicating that he should begin the process of finding a wand for his son and the girl he loved.


	17. Twenty-Something Going on Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one wants to be fourteen again.

"No way," Maxie clutched her 10" rosewood wand with a demiguise core to her chest, which Ollivander had informed her was, _great for working transfiguration spells and would give her magic a much needed balance,_ and backed away from Albus. Minerva had called him in when Maxie had adamantly refused to go through the de-aging process. The girl had excelled at the first year and second year coursework, and was ready for the third year coursework, but whenever Minerva approached her about the de-aging that would need to take place prior to the start of the school year; she was met with powerful resistance.

School term would be starting in little less than three weeks and Minerva wanted Maxie to get used to what it was like to be a fourteen-year-old again before school began. She had assured her time and time again that the loss of memory which Spinelli had suffered would not necessarily be her fate. Maxie had flat-out refused to listen. Minerva hoped that Albus would be able to talk some sense into her and she also hoped that he would be willing to enlighten her as to who Spinelli was and why he looked so much like Severus. She had her suspicions, but would like them to be confirmed.

"Maxie, my child," Albus used his most patient tone with her as though she were a young child rather than a formidable young woman, "there is no other way."

"Why can't I just continue with private lessons or something?" She huffed.

Albus eyed her closely, and decided to try a different route, "If you would like to be able to see and spend time with your friend Spinelli, I'm afraid there is no other choice for you to make." He caught the spark of defiance in her eyes, saw her back stiffen and then watched as she gave up the fight and let out a breath of pent up air.

"I just…don't want to go through my teenage years again. Especially without…" she bit her lower lip, aware of her vulnerability and not sure whether to continue, "Georgie," she finished on a puff of air, folding her arms across her chest and looking down at the hem of her horribly black robes. She struggled with the next words, wishing she could simply disappear, "You see…well…my first time as a teen wasn't exactly the best of times…"

Minerva felt a strange tug at her heart as she listened to the girl. _She herself remembered her awkward teenage years and the more she thought about it, the better she understood Maxie's refusal. Had Albus asked her to return to her fourteen year-old self, she would have refused as well. The tug of youth, as fleeting as it had been and as exciting as the thought was initially, was not something she would, upon the reflection of the last few weeks of watching Maxie, willingly repeat. Maybe there was another way for Maxie to attend Hogwarts without having to revert to that awkward teenage state._

"I'm sorry Maxie, but in order for you to attend Hogwarts, you must be the same age as the other students," Albus placed a tender hand on her sinking shoulders.

"Albus, may I have a word with you?" Minerva pulled Albus to a far corner of the room for privacy.

"Minerva?"

"I've been thinking. What we've been asking of Miss Jones is, it would appear, a sacrifice that she is reluctant to make. As such, I have a proposal that I think may work for all of us," Minerva said in clipped, hushed tones.

"What is your proposal?"

"What if Miss Jones was to attend school, not as a student, but as my assistant?" Minerva hadn't been sure of what she would say until the words came spilling out of her mouth, no doubt an influence of the fast-talking girl she'd been tutoring for the past month and a half.

"That would be…highly… unusual," Albus looked at Minerva thoughtfully, tapping a finger to his lips.

"I understand that what I am proposing is a little bit unusual and I'm not saying that I believe it will even work out, we still fight like cats and dogs on the best of days, but," Minerva was babbling, something else she could attribute to the blonde spit-fire's influence, "Well, Albus, I think she could be a valuable asset in the classroom. She has already mastered transfiguration techniques that others twice her age still struggle with and, dare I say it, I believe that her level of expertise will well eclipse my own."

When Minerva had run out of steam and finally looked up at Albus, much to her consternation, there was an amused twinkle in his eyes, "Why don't we present her with both options?"

"What?" Maxie threw her hands in the air as the elderly pair made their way back to her, tight smiles on their faces.

"Maxie, it appears that there are two ways in which you may attend Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Sorcery," Albus' wide grin sparkled, matching the twinkle of his eyes, "as a fourteen-year- old girl or as Professor McGonagall's assistant."

Maxie's jaw dropped and she blinked, looking between the amused Albus and the embarrassed Minerva. _Professor McGonagall wanted_ _ **her**_ _for an assistant? They couldn't get along with each other for two minutes, how were they going to work together for an entire school year? She had no desire to be a teenager again either, but to be in the midst of them, teaching them…yikes. Who was she to shape the lives and minds of young people anyway? She wasn't the best role model and knew that if McGonagall and Albus were to learn about a fourth of what she had done in the past year, they would send her back to Port Charles without a backward glance._

_And what about Spinelli? How would they be able to be friends if there was such a large age-gap? That kiss with him had been…magic. Pure and simple magic that held the promise of more to come. Would she be giving that up by refusing to return to the age of fourteen again? Albus had promised that she would not be fourteen forever. How bad could it be? Maybe things would be different this time around. She wouldn't have to make the same mistakes over again, especially if she retained her memories. Albus had said she might be able to retain some, if not all, of her memories. She just hoped they would be the ones that meant the most to her._ A memory of Spinelli's lips on hers flashed in her mind and she blushed.

"Professor McGonagall, I'm honored, really I am. But do you honestly think we would be able to work together? I mean, seriously, one of us would be tearing her hair out by the end of the first week. I'm not the best role model for young women either. I…I've made a few mistakes," Maxie lowered her gaze and bit her bottom lip, "well, okay, more than just a few…but I always had the best of intentions…okay, maybe not always, but since Spinelli has been in my life," Maxie looked up, her eyes bright, "I've become a better person. I don't know what I'm trying to say here…"

"Maxie whatever you choose, we will support you," Minerva assured the younger girl, eyes suddenly welling up with tears. _When Albus had dropped Maxie off in June Minerva thought that it would never work out. She was sure they would drive each other batty and that Albus would have to find someone else to train the girl. Yet, here it was the beginning of August, and Minerva knew without a shadow of a doubt that she cared for Maxie almost like a daughter. If Albus had told her she would feel this way when he dropped the blonde-haired vixen off on her doorstep, she would have laughed in his face and cursed him for good measure. But here she was, practically in tears as the girl considered how she would spend the next year of her life._ Disconcerted by her thoughts Minerva pursed her lips and stalked out of the room.

"I hope I didn't hurt her feelings," Maxie turned her blue eyes to Albus, "I mean, she's been great, but it's just, well, we kind of…"

"Butt heads?" Albus chuckled.

"I guess you could say that," Maxie smiled, but then frowned as she thought about the decision she had to make. Should she attend Hogwarts as a teenager or should she take McGonagall up on her offer?


	18. Changes

"Severus Tobias Snape!" Minerva's eyes flashed dangerously and her nostrils flared out of control, "What have you done?" It wasn't really a question as the evidence of what Severus had done was lying there in front of her.

Maxie Jones, or rather a fourteen year old version of the bubbly, blonde vixen, lay in an untidy heap on Severus' battered couch. Minerva had been gone only a few minutes to check on Damien Spinelli's progress in the transfiguration exercise she had given him. When she had returned, it was to witness the remnants of the tell-tale orange flash of the little used de-aging spell.

"I've merely done what had to be done. What you and Albus had been hedging around," Severus glared back at Minerva, "honestly, promising the girl that she could be your assistant. You know that would never have worked. Besides, Spinelli has been driving me crazy these last few weeks with talk of the girl. I used to think that it would be Harry Potter who would do me in, now I know otherwise. If I hear one more word about that…twit…" Severus gestured in the direction of the stupefied girl, "and how they were meant to be together, I will…"

"You'll what, Severus?" Minerva cut his rant off, a finger wagging menacingly in his face, "Stupefy the girl and do something against her will? Something that Albus and I had been working on getting her to agree to of her own volition? What do you propose we say to her when she recovers?" Minerva paused a moment, gathering momentum. Severus backed away from the advancing witch, very much afraid, "What you did was little more than take away the girl's free choice; you've robbed her of her will. You've stolen her trust, something that I have been working on earning for the past eight weeks and had nearly garnered. Do you even understand what it is that you have done?" Minerva's angry face was merely inches from his own; he could see the sparks in her eyes.

Gulping, Severus tried to maintain his cool indifference, "I have simply…" the fierce, soul-piercing glower coming from his former professor had him stammering, "that is I…" _the vibrant memory of Lily turning away from him, hurt and disappointment clouding her eyes, sent his heart plunging. It was followed quickly by an equally poignant memory of Kathy after they had consummated what she had thought was true love. Her eyes had held unashamed trust in them; his own had been horror-filled. He had caught the reflection of them in Kathy's pure, bright, tears-of-joy, filled ones. She had mistaken his horror for lovesickness and he had not corrected her. He had betrayed the trust of both these women who had at one point loved him and now they were dead. What had he done to Spinelli's friend?_

"I have never been so disappointed in you Severus," Minerva looked away from the man who trembled before her.

Severus sagged in relief that was short-lived when Spinelli sprang into the room, the smile of triumph that had been on his face at his successful transfiguration exercise (he had transformed a teacup into a tiny grey mouse which wriggled in his hand) melted as he saw Maxie lying deathly still on the couch. The mouse made its escape from Spinelli's lax fingers, jumping fearlessly from his hand and skittering off to a dark corner of the room. Its flight going unchecked, it succeeded in finding a hole and burrowing into it.

Spinelli sat by Maxie's side, pulling one of her hands into his lap. Turning to Severus and Minerva, a pained look on his face as a memory that wouldn't quite come into focus tingled at the back of his mind, he asked, "What happened to my beautiful Maximista?" Turning back to the girl he loved, he brushed away a lock of hair that covered her eye and searched for a pulse. Relief washed over him when he felt it strong and vibrant beneath his fingertips. His own heart, which had nearly ceased to beat, resumed its own steady rhythm. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered as her eyes fluttered open.

"Spinelli?" Maxie was on the verge of panic. She didn't recognize where she was and could've sworn that she had been standing not too long ago. Though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, there was something different about her. She didn't feel quite the same as she had a few minutes ago.

"It's okay, you're all right," Spinelli rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, soothing her.

"But, what…" Maxie frowned as the memory of a man, dressed in a black cloak, advancing on her rushed back to her, "Ohmygoodness, what have you done to me?" She sat up, dispelling Spinelli from the couch and turned accusing eyes on Severus.

Minerva stepped between Severus and Maxie, entering her field of vision, "Professor Snape, it would appear, has taken it upon himself to…"

"No! I want to hear it from him," Maxie stood on shaky legs, facing the professor in question, reminding him of Minerva only moments before. Minerva stepped aside, inclining her head to Severus.

"Miss Jones, I have," Severus was suddenly at a loss for words. He was never at a loss for words, well maybe after undergoing the crucio curse. But standing here in front of this young blonde witch, seeing his baffled son still sitting in his awkward position on the floor, looking up at him with those sad, brown eyes, so like Kathy's, he didn't know what to say.

"What did you do to me?" Maxie shook in anger, looking the man who stood in front of her up and down before crossing her arms across her chest and jutting her chin out defiantly.

"I," Severus cleared his throat, "I performed the de-aging spell on you."

"How dare you!" Maxie flung her arms wide and stalked over to him, slapping a small, dainty hand on his chest that held more power than it should have.

"I thought it was what you wanted," he replied weakly, hoping that the sincerity he had infused in his voice would work on the girl. It had always worked with the Dark Lord.

"Oh no you don't," Maxie pushed her pointer finger into his chest, emphasizing each word, "I distinctly recall telling you that I planned on going to Hogwarts as Minerva's assistant, not as some…regressed teenager!"

Smirking, Severus tilted his head at the irate teen, "My mistake. I apologize, but what has been done has been done," he cast a look toward his son who had managed to lift himself from the floor and was currently brushing the dust off his cloak, oblivious to Severus' watchfulness.

"Well, undo it then," Maxie ground out.

"I'm afraid that is impossible," Severus stepped back, once again regaining his composure.

"What do you mean impossible?" Maxie narrowed her eyes, instantly suspicious of the wizard.

"The fair Maximista does not wish to be in a state of similitude with the teenaged Jackal?" Spinelli had managed to get most of the dust off and stood at Maxie's side. He took her hands in his own and they stood face-to-face. His eyes imploring, managed to hold a depth of compassionate understanding that were beyond his years, as he looked into hers. He did not have his full memory back, but what he could remember was that he loved this girl who stood before him. He loved her with all that he was and all that he had been. If she did not want to be fourteen again, he would simply have to convince Professor Snape to change her back, even if it meant that he would lose her forever. Tearing his eyes and hands from hers, he turned to his dour professor, "Professor Snape, are you sure that it's impossible?" His eyes, so much like Kathy's, bore into the older wizard's and Severus found himself shaking his head, no. It was not impossible to reverse the spell.

Severus could see the pain and longing in his son's eyes and marveled that his son was willing to risk losing the girl he loved so dearly. The girl he had spent the past eight weeks mooning over. The girl he had secretly told an exasperated Severus that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that Severus was sure did not deserve the affections of his son. He had thought that rendering her to her teenaged state would be like a gift to his son, some way to right the wrong that had been done to him so long ago when his mother had died during childbirth.

It had been the wrong thing to do and now he had two angry witches standing in his parlor and a son whose heart was going to be broken yet again. Sighing, he raised his wand, pointing it at Maxie, ready to perform the reversal spell, knowing that as he did, his son would lose her forever. Maxie would not be allowed to carry on their friendship at the school as an adult, and it would be to her benefit that, while he perform the reversal spell, he also wipe out her memories of Spinelli's and his of her.

"Wait!" Maxie placed her hands on either side of Spinelli's cheeks, turning his face toward her. She looked into his eyes and allowed herself to be pulled into their bronzed depths.

" _Spinelli, I don't know if I can do this. I mean, I was a teenager once before and really messed up big time," her adult self admitted to the man who sat across from her at Kelly's Diner._

" _Maximista, you won't be alone, I'll be with you. We can do this together. My own teenage years weren't wondrous. It's not as though I am thrilled at being fourteen again," Spinelli held her hands in his and smiled up at her, encouragingly, "we can help each other through this."_

" _You're the best thing that has happened to me, you know that don't you," Maxie leaned forward and gave Spinelli a quick peck on the lips._

"Here we go again," Severus' wand had stopped mid-spell as he waited for the two to return from Spinelli's mind. His son was the most talented legilimens he had ever met; his skills even surpassed those of Albus'.

"What exactly is happening?" Minerva wandered over to the two who seemed locked in some sort of trance.

"Spinelli, it seems, is a rather adept legilimens practitioner," Severus sniffed, "no doubt it comes from that overactive imagination of his going unchecked for so many years. In spite of his ability to legilimize, he seems most inept at occluding. The boy's emotions are plain for all to see. I have spent most of the summer attempting to teach him the art of occlusion, but it has been in vain."

"Humph," Minerva caught the look of pride in Severus' eyes and filed it away for the future. She would get to the bottom of who this boy was and why it was so important that he be trained at Hogwarts, "How are his other studies coming along?" Severus had called her over to help with Spinelli's transfiguration lessons, Minerva had secretly been hoping that seeing Spinelli would help to bring Maxie closer to making her decision. It had not gone as planned.

"He will be ready for his fourth year studies. He has a talent for charms and is doing fairly well with potions. Defense against the dark arts seems to be one of his weaknesses as is transfiguration, but, as you no doubt ascertained, he is a quick learner," Severus offered.

There was that pride again, Minerva would get to the bottom of it, she already had her suspicions as Spinelli looked so much like Severus had when he was that age, "It must bother you that he isn't as talented with defense as you were when you were that age," she prodded.

Severus looked at her sharply, "What do you mean by that?"

"I was your teacher Severus, I recall when you were that age," Minerva matched his glare with one of her own; "Spinelli's your son, isn't he?"

"I told Albus that we should disguise him in some way," Severus muttered.

"Don't worry; your secret is safe with me," Minerva smiled, "why haven't you told Spinelli?"

"Why haven't you told me what?" Spinelli and Maxie were now holding hands, staring at the witch and wizard.

"How much have you heard?" Severus demanded.

"We just heard mention of a stalwart secret keeper and the question that Minerva posed," Spinelli swallowed the dryness in his throat.

"Ah, the secret, I see it has come out then, has it?" Albus stepped out of Severus' fireplace as though he had been expected and pointedly ignored Severus' pleading eyes.

"The Quidditch World Cup is taking place later this week. I was going to ask if you two would like to join a wizarding family who will be attending the event, but it seems as though the proverbial cat is out of the bag," he winked at Severus who glowered in return.

"What's Quidditch?" Spinelli turned to Maxie who returned his questioning gaze.

"It's a wizarding sport played on broomsticks; you'd really have to see it to understand it. I understand it is a bit like what you American's call soccer and basketball," Albus smiled eagerly at the two, knowing that Severus would be unable to say no to Spinelli without risk of revealing his true secret.

"Can we go?" Spinelli was intrigued, soccer and basketball on broomsticks. Did the broomsticks fly?

"Unless your guardians," Albus gestured toward Minerva and Severus who both gave him dirty looks, "say otherwise, I don't see why not."

"Who would they be joining?" Minerva was the first to regain her voice.

"The Weasley's," Albus' eyes were twinkling up a storm, especially at the look Severus cast his way, "I thought it would be a good idea to get these two acquainted with some of their fellow classmates and with the wizarding world in general. I see that Miss Jones has decided to go through the de-aging process."

"Not so much decided as was forced to," Maxie glared at Severus.

"I was about to reverse the process when you flooed in unexpectedly," Severus explained, throwing a glare of his own in Maxie's direction.

"I see," Albus looked back and forth between the two.

"I have decided, however, that I will stick with the de-aging process," Maxie pulled Spinelli closer to her.

"I'm not sure it is such a good idea to send these two off with the Weasley's," Severus eyed the couple warily; "they have enough children to worry about without adding two extra. No doubt they will have Harry Potter along as well."

"Ah, that is the other reason for my visit," Albus smiled, "I was hoping that you would join them, Severus, you could act as a chaperone."

"Well, I have a lot of work to do to get ready for the school year," Severus took his watchful eyes off the snuggling pair to look at Albus, "perhaps Minerva would be willing to join the Weasley's."

"I was hoping you both would," Albus cut in before Minerva could voice her protest.

"But surely you don't think," Minerva sputtered, "I mean, I can't be traipsing about the countryside, camping out in tents!"

"I have quite a comfortable tent that I am more than willing to let you use, unless of course you feel that the two will be properly cared for by Mr. Weasley. It is my understanding that Miss Granger will be joining them in addition to young Mr. Potter," Albus looked at the two, a knowing look in his eyes.

"When will we be leaving?" Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. There is no way he was going to trust Mr. Weasley to care for several hormonal teens on his own. Add Harry Potter to the mix and something was bound to go wrong, trouble always seemed to follow that boy and he was not going to allow his son to get mixed up in it.

"Day after tomorrow," Albus handed Severus the tickets and a small package before gesturing for Minerva to join him in the kitchen.

"So, Miss Jones, you have decided to remain fourteen after all?" Severus sneered.

"Not because of you," she sneered back.

"Spinelli, I believe you still owe me a foot on your potions essay," Severus turned to his son who groaned, but let go of Maxie's hand. She reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek. Bright red, he left the parlor, nearly smacking his head on the door frame because he couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

"Until we meet again, my sweet Maximista," Spinelli blew her a kiss as he turned the corner.

When she was sure that Spinelli was out of hearing range, Maxie spun on Severus, "If you ever do anything like that to me again, I will make you wish you had never been born. Don't you ever use Spinelli against me again. I may look fourteen, but I have had years of experience in dealing with men like you. I will chew you up and spit you out before you even know what happened to you."

"I can see that this year will be an interesting one," Severus replied, "let's one thing straight: I would never use Spinelli against you. If anyone is using Spinelli, it's you. Another thing, what I did was for your own good, whether you care to admit it or not, so don't get all high and mighty on me. You're nothing but a vain, brainless twit and the sooner Spinelli figures that out, the better off he will be."

"What is your problem? You should be apologizing to me," Maxie's eyes glittered with anger, "not finding fault with me."

Albus cleared his throat as he entered the room, "Severus, a word in the kitchen. Maxie, Minerva would like you to work on transfiguring Professor Snape's couch into something more… suitable, I believe she said."

With an evil grin, Maxie turned her back on Severus and eyed his couch mischievously. _Maybe she would give the entire room an overhaul, it could certainly use it. A little color would liven the place up and she knew just the combination of colors to use._

"What exactly is your little protégé going to do to my furniture?" Severus' onyx eyes met Minerva's steely ones.

"Oh, a little of this and that, I believe," she answered vaguely, "she has an eye for color and is quite gifted when it comes to interior decoration. She should have your parlor in top shape in no time."

"Severus," Albus' tone turned his attention away from whatever calamity he might face upon return to his parlor.

"I trust that you have explained everything to Minerva," Severus snarled.

"Yes, I also believe it best to tell a few more of your former professors prior to return to school. I will meet privately with them and assure you of their silence on this matter. Spinelli's safety is a top priority."

"Thank you Albus," Severus sighed, "where are we to meet Mr. Weasley et al?"

"I have taken the liberty of making a portkey for you to use," Albus handed Severus a dented tin can, "it will be ready for you at six am sharp."

"Wonderful," Severus groaned. Waking Spinelli was like trying to wake the dead on the best of days.

"Well, I must be off," Albus stood, "have fun at the Quidditch World Cup. I'll see you at the start of term."

"Your parlor looks lovely Severus," Albus called out as he flooed away.

"I must agree," Minerva smiled in triumph as she looked around the room, "well done Miss Jones, you have passed your third year. Do try and keep it tidy," Minerva turned to Severus before she and Maxie prepared to floo back to her place, "Make sure that Mr. Spinelli practices the processes I showed him today. I will be back tomorrow to test him on them."

When both witches had left, Severus surveyed the damage. His parlor had become something out of a magazine. His couch was no longer tattered, but was now a plump pink and purple striped affair. He had lacey curtains, nice oak tables, and everything down to the fluffy carpeting he stood upon was bright pink and purple. It was enough to make anyone sick.

 


	19. Mothers and Sons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Harry Potter up through book seven.

Severus stood and surveyed the damage. Death Eaters had swept through the tournament during the celebration and wreaked havoc amongst the revelers and Muggles. The Dark Mark had been raised by none other than Potter's wand and Barty Crouch, fool of a man that he was, had accused the Gryffindor of having actually conjured the mark. He may be reckless and foolish, but would not have had the knowledge it would take to issue it forth. When Barty had then turned his accusations in Severus' direction, he simply raised one of his eyebrows and had asked the students who accompanied him to vouch for his actions turn-by-turn. After Hermoine's rather long winded explanation as to his actions, during which Barty's eyes had begun to glaze over when she was only half-way through, he had waved off the other explanations, taking Severus' innocence for fact.

Things had gone pretty much as Severus had expected them to, with the exception of this little debacle, of course. He, Spinelli, and the blonde hellion as he had taken to calling her, had arrived at the campgrounds a few hours after Weasley and his clan. They were due to arrive merely minutes after Weasley, but because of the scheming diva's (another apt nickname for the twit) inability to decide upon which outfits would be best to pack, they were late. It had ended with Severus flinging a few odds and ends into her trunk and threatening to stun her if she did not stop pouting and get ready to depart. Thankfully Spinelli had been able to talk some reason into both of them before Severus did something he regretted.

Though Severus had prepared himself mentally for seeing the 'golden' trio outside of Hogwarts, he found himself on edge when he spotted them near Weasley's tent. Suddenly, he felt very protective of his son as memories of the taunting he had suffered from Potter and the other 'Marauders' flashed to the surface. Curling his lip into a sneer, he greeted Potter and the others, subconsciously shielding Spinelli from them.

Potter looked so much like his father that Severus grasped his wand, readying it for a preemptive curse when Harry's smile fled his face at the mere sight of him. Never mind the fact that he was in fact, not his father, anymore than the boy who stood behind him was not a carbon copy of himself. Even so, it was hard to let go of the feelings of pain and childhood rivalry that surfaced at the sight of the young man who reminded him so much of his childhood tormentor. _James Potter had been nothing more than a bully, pure and simple. Would his son, whom Severus had treated abysmally for the past three years, treat Spinelli in the same vein?_

"Welcome Professor Snape," Weasley greeted affably, vigorously pumping his hand while peering around the sneering professor to smile at the young man and woman in his charge, "and would these be the two young people Professor Dumbledore told me about the other night?"

"Thank you Mr. Weasley," Professor Snape nodded and removed his hand from the man's grasp as soon as he could. Inadvertently rubbing his hand on his Muggle jeans, he continued to shield the blonde witch and his son from the curious eyes of the Weasley clan, Potter, and Granger who kept trying to peer around him.

"What's he doing here?" Ron hiked a thumb at his Potions Professor, casting a look of utter incredulity at his father. _Of all the wizards he had thought he would see here, Snape would have been the last on his list. The idea of Professor Snape at an international quidditch match was laughable at best. The professor didn't even like the sport. And who had he brought with him? Whoever had put young people in his charge, unless they were Slytherins, had made a seriously grave mistake._ Ron shot a furtive glance around the cagey professor and his mouth dropped. The blonde girl with him was absolutely gorgeous. He had to do a double-take. _There was no way that she was a Slytherin, simply no way. If she wasn't a Slytherin, then what on earth was she doing in Snape's care? This proved that Dumbledore was completely off his rocker._

Catching the look in Ron's eyes, Hermione followed his gaze to the young beautiful blonde and smacked him on the arm. _Honestly, he was such a typical hormonal boy._ The girl, dressed in a light blue dress that just barely reached her knees was undoubtedly used to catching the eye of boys and men alike. She held her chin up smugly, her pink lips pouted, and the bouncing curls of her golden hair framed her face perfectly. She clung, almost possessively, to a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy who looked vaguely familiar. Though Hermione was unable to quite put her finger on who he reminded her of at the moment, she vowed to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.

When the object of her curious gaze looked up at her suddenly, and their eyes met, Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she sputtered. Ron's awkward slap on her back nearly sent her sprawling and the boy whose startling onyx eyes had nearly made her heart melt, was at her side in a flash, helping her to regain her lost footing.

"Th..thank y..you," she stammered, her cheeks growing crimson in embarrassment. _Was that a look of possessive jealousy in the blonde-haired beauty's narrowed gaze?_ Hermione shivered involuntarily as the blonde scrutinized her and hurried to their side on the guise of helping.

"Anything for a dashing young damsel in distress," the young man smiled at her and Hermione blushed a deeper shade of red. Unable to tear her eyes away from the lavish smile which accented his ample lips perfectly, her heart skipped a beat and her eyelashes batted as though compelled by some unseen force. She felt as though she was under the Imperious Curse and her knees wobbled weakly. He wrapped an arm around her waist to stabilize her and her eyes moved from his lips to the sparkling black orbs that were his eyes. The concern within the depths of his kind eyes left her breathless.

Her arms snaked around his neck in spite of a voice at the back of her mind which warned her that she knew nothing of this young man and that Ron, Harry, and the seething blonde beauty were looking on, not to mention Mr. Weasley and Professor Snape. Mesmerized by those compelling eyes, she smiled self-consciously, allowing him to steady her, aware of the close proximity of their bodies and the heat that rose from her toes to the roots of her frizzy hair.

"Ooh…um…that is," Hermione was at a loss for words, Ron looked on in disbelief. Hermione was never at a loss for words. Belatedly, he reached out blundering arms to help aid Hermione, blushing himself, turning as red as his hair. Not sure why, he suddenly felt protective of the bossy, brown-haired girl whom he had reluctantly befriended at first. _Just who was this greasy, black-haired ape who had his hands all over one of his best friends?_

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and Hermione was suddenly able to tear her eyes away from her rescuer's face and gather her wits about herself. Disentangling herself from both the dark-haired stranger and Ron, she embarrassedly brushed at her plain, black skirt to straighten it, fully aware that everyone's eyes were on her. Fully aware that the blonde beauty was eyeing her angrily and had again hooked an arm possessively through that of her debonair rescuer.

"I believe that introductions are in order," Mr. Weasley nodded in Severus' direction who had looked on during the entire debacle with something between a glare and a guffaw. His son had managed to leave Granger, the insufferable know-it-all, speechless with a single gesture of unmitigated kindness and chivalry.

Gesturing for his two charges to join him, Severus reluctantly began the introductions, gauging Potter and his friends' reactions carefully. _Damn Albus and his interference. If his son suffered the same type of humiliation at the hands of Potter and his friends that he had, he would never forgive the old man._ In spite of the niggling voice at the back of an oft neglected corner of his mind which reminded him that Harry had not comported himself in the same manner as his father, Severus was reluctant to trust his son's kind, generous heart to the trio.

Spinelli was so like his mother in spirit it amazed him. Though Severus had known Kathy for only a short time, his son brought the memory of her back to him in ways that often startled him. From the smile which came so easily to the boy's lips to his long, delicate eyelashes to the way he could make others feel special and honored with a single well- thought-out word, he was the very embodiment of his mother. He may have resembled Severus in his looks, but in everything that truly mattered; he thankfully took after his mother.

"Damien Spinelli," Severus inclined his head toward his son who waved self-consciously, "and Maxie Jones," keeping her arm firmly tucked inside of Spinelli's, she smiled and waved her other hand. "Meet Mr. Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter," he nodded to each in turn.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Hermione stepped forward, careful to hold her hand out to Maxie to shake before turning it over to Damien, "please call me Hermione."

"Maxie," the blonde said curtly, squeezing Hermione's hand a little harder than necessary.

"Spinelli," the warm smile that lit up his face almost had Hermione stumbling for words again, but she returned his smile and stepped back in between Ron and Harry after shaking his hand.

Harry stepped forward next and introduced himself first to Spinelli, "Harry," he smiled at the young man by way of introduction and then turned to Maxie whose face lit up in a genuine smile as she greeted the famous wizard enthusiastically. _Though he was years younger than she, he was kind of cute in a Spinelliesque kind of way._

Ron was the last to step forward and he took Spinelli's hand in a firm grip, causing the boy to wince when he released it. He mumbled his greeting to Spinelli and then turned bright red when faced with Maxie and the beaming smile that had him looking at his feet and stuttering his name.

"Now that the introductions have been made, how about if we help Professor Snape set up camp?" Mr. Weasley clapped his hands together and they all set to work putting up the magical tent and preparing dinner. An uncomfortable silence hung around them until Spinelli inexpertly tripped over a misplaced log and almost fell headlong into their campfire.

Harry Potter reached the tottering boy before anyone else and pulled him from the fire, much to Severus' consternation. "Are you alright?"

"Y…yes," Spinelli blinked, his hands shaking, "thank you." He sat roughly on the ground and Harry sat next to him.

"Anytime," Harry replied, "so where are you from? I don't recognize the accent."

Spinelli looked up at Severus nervously, seeking direction and permission to speak. Rolling his eyes, Severus nodded his head briefly, giving him permission to share the story that they had come up with and run through several times the day before.

"Um, I'm from a small town in America and have been allowed to transfer to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he answered, smiling bashfully, his long lashes hiding his eyes.

"Really?" Ron abandoned the cold-shoulder treatment he had been giving the young man and sat down next to Harry.

"Wow, that's unheard of," Hermione joined the boys and Maxie stalked over to them, conjuring a blanket to sit on and positioning herself so that she was nearly sitting on Spinelli's lap. He drew her close with an arm around her waist, happy to have her near, oblivious to the tongue she stuck out behind Hermione's turned head.

Severus was floored. His son had been rescued by Harry Potter, the son of his childhood nemesis. The son of the man who had, for all intents and purposes, stolen the affections of the only woman he had ever loved. And if the rest of the afternoon and progressing evening were anything to judge by, the two were fast becoming friends. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and his son, the boy who grew up Spinelli, though he was in reality a Snape and a Spinnaker were getting along famously.

It was too much for Severus' pride and he stalked off when the match began, knowing that Weasley and his older sons, who also seemed to get along with his son, would take good care of them. _He very much doubted that if anyone knew Spinelli was his son that the boy would have been as readily accepted into their fold. Had they known that Spinelli was in fact a Snape, they would no doubt have snubbed the boy and treated him with contempt._

_It was with a supreme sense of irony that Severus reflected on his own treatment of his rival's son and how he had treated young Harry Potter with nothing but contempt from the moment he had set eyes on the boy. Every time he had looked at Harry, he was reminded of how James Potter had mortified him in front of his classmates and friends on a nearly daily basis. He had been unable to separate the two in his mind, the memories often bubbling forth every time he saw that shock of black hair in his classroom._

_If he dared to look Potter in the eyes, he was haunted by the memory of Lily Evans. Harry's eyes were strikingly similar to those of his mother's. Each time he caught a mere glimpse of them, Severus was filled with a deep sense of guilt. It had been he who had revealed to the Dark Lord the prophecy which had led to her and the elder Potter's death. It was his foolish, youthful lust which left Harry an orphan and himself a cruel, bitter shell of a man who maintained a double identity. He was nothing more than a tormented soul divided in two as he worked for the light and yet continued his descent into darkness as a spy on the Dark Lord for Albus._

Severus was abruptly roused from his musings when happy and not so happy wizards returned en masse from the match. There was loud singing and fireworks lighting the air. Surprised that the match had ended so soon, he waited in the tent for the others to return, urging Spinelli and Maxie to retire as soon as possible so they could return to his home early the next morning.

"Professor Snape you really should have been there," Spinelli enthused once again, lying in one of the bunks all starry eyed, "it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen."

"I've seen quidditch matches before," Severus answered irritably, turning toward the tent wall.

"But it was," Spinelli searched for the right word to say, "…simply…"

"Magical," Maxie supplied, yawning. _It had been fun to watch the match with Spinelli. Well, really to watch Spinelli during the match. The looks of wonder and sheer joy on his face brought her heart to a lurching halt at times. His excitement was contagious, and even though she could not follow Ron's, Fred's, or George's (which twin was which?) explanations, she found herself cheering whenever Spinelli did._

When the match had come to an end, she had no idea who won and didn't really care. Spinelli had turned to her and pulled her to her feet. Spinning her around so that her feet were off the ground and she giggled. He planted a kiss on her lips and if Mr. Weasley hadn't tapped on his shoulder the kiss would have deepened until everyone and everything else had faded into nothing around them.

She could still feel his lips on hers as she lay in bed and she placed a finger on them. They still tingled and burned with the memory of Spinelli's lips brushing them. Sighing, she rolled onto her side, knowing she would not get much sleep.

"Severus!" Mr. Weasley ran into the tent, followed by a sleepy Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, "Get up! Death Eaters! Death Eaters have overrun the camp. I need to help sort things out, can you watch the children?" Not waiting for Severus to completely pull himself from bed, Weasley was out of the tent in a flash, followed by Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, and Percy.

Severus had ordered them all out of the tent and packed up their camps. He caught snippets of what his fellow Death Eaters were up to, knowing that if they spotted him, they would expect him to join them. Disgusted at their carousing and how they tortured the Muggles, he guided the children into the woods, away from the center of the campgrounds.

When the Dark Mark had been sent up, Severus searched feverishly for the voice they had heard issue it forth. It was he who had discovered Potter's abandoned wand and he had chastised the boy to within tears for his absentmindedness _. Did he even realize how fortunate he was that his wand hadn't been used by one of the other Death Eaters to perform some atrocity against an innocent wizard or Muggle? As it was, it had been used to conjure the Dark Mark and Harry had been implicated. Stupid, foolish boy._ Severus and his friends had to help prove his innocence.

Rather than returning home as he had hoped to do, Severus, Spinelli, and Maxie joined Weasley and his brood to the Burrow. Though Molly was a bit flustered to see Severus in her home, she welcomed them all and ushered them all inside finding a place for each of them to sleep in her overcrowded home and arose hours early to prepare a king-sized breakfast for them all.


	20. Watch out Hogwarts, Here We Come!

_hmmm...it seems…wait…no that's not it...but could be…just like your father…and like your mother…yet…_

_Wait a minute! Do you know who my father is?_ Spinelli's head spun, could he possibly get the answer to the question that had been plaguing him from the moment he had been plunged into this strange magical world? Would it really be as simple as asking the hat which had been ceremoniously placed upon his head after the First Years had been sorted and he and Maxie had been introduced to the school? The hat had started deliberating just where to place him the minute it was plopped onto his head. Apparently it hadn't had this much trouble sorting anyone since Harry Potter's sorting four years ago. At least that is what the hat had said. It had also mentioned words like: _courage, ambition, unconditional love, acceptance, and absolutely brilliant pristine mind._

_Of course I know who your father is!_ The hat snapped, _as if I would forget any student I had sorted, especially one who has worked as a Professor here at Hogwarts for so long. But, back to the task at hand…where to place you…you have a brilliant mind…a stout heart…kindness and love for others well beyond what anyone truly deserves…capacity to forgive, again along the lines of Harry Potter, definitely not like your father in that regard…yet the desire to prove yourself is strong, much like your father's was…could it be…but…hmmm…if I were to consider Professor Dumbledore's suggestion that your father had been somehow wronged by such an early sorting…if only you would make up your mind!_

_Me? You want_ _**me** _ _to make up_ _**my** _ _mind? The Jackal has been pointedly waiting for you to come to a decision and resubmits his humble query, albeit worded a bit more aptly since you know who my father is; who is my father?_

"Gryffindor!" The hat announced and was immediately removed from Spinelli's head by a scowling Severus.

"B…b..but," Spinelli sputtered, reaching for the hat, oblivious to the cheers coming from a table in the middle of the elaborately decorated dining hall. When he made no move to get up, Severus grasped him by the elbow and shoved him in the direction of a table adorned with gold and red. Spinelli stumbled down the stairs, unseeing. The answer he had been seeking for the past couple of weeks had been within his grasp and had been ripped away at the last minute. _It was not fair!_

"Here, you can sit next to me," Hermione stood and grabbed Spinelli, wedging him into a seat between her and Ron. Ron turned toward Harry and muttered something under his breath, turning bright red. Spinelli remained oblivious, turning his attention to the stage where Maxie sat under the sorting hat.

* * *

 

_Hmmm…another difficult choice…I see much magical history… and… much desire to gain power…is that what you desire most dear child? Does the thought of reaching to the highest heights quicken your pulse? Ah, indeed it does._

_Would you be willing to lay down your life for your fellow students? No? Just one…I see…hmmm…not of the same caliber as your dear friend, nor of that of your ancestry. You can go far, quite far, much further than even that of your parents._

"Slytherin!" The hat roared, sure of the placement of Maxie Jones.

Thrilled to be rid of the fashion monstrosity, Maxie smiled in relief when it was pulled off of her head. Her eyes looked out into the crowd as one particular grouping of students seated at a table decorated in green cheered loudly. _Green? I can pull of green._

She continued to search through the cheering and jeering students until her gaze rested on the one she sought, Spinelli. Ignoring the calls coming from the table to the far left of the room, she picked her way through the crowd and, smiling brightly, sandwiched herself between Hermione and Spinelli. Hugging Spinelli, she grasped one of his hands in hers and sighed in relief.

"Thank god that's over," Maxie laughed lightly, patting Spinelli's arm. "What?" She swiveled around on her seat, taking in all the wide-eyed stares, gasps, and, in some cases, outright glares that those at the Gryffindor table cast in her direction.

* * *

 

_Just what was that sordid Sorting Hat playing at?_ Severus glowered as it announced that his son, Severus Snape's only living flesh and blood, was in Gryffindor, the house of his barely stifled a growl as the hat then proceeded to announce that that trollop, who had hoodwinked his son, was in his very house _._ Sensing the beginnings of a migraine, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, only opening them when he heard the cheering of the students taper off into an awkward silence. Gasps arose from around the dining room.

Seeing immediately that Miss Maxie Jones was at the center of the disturbance, Severus gathered his robes about him angrily and strode toward the Gryffindor table, robes billowing dangerously, whacking heedless students who weren't able to get out of the way quick enough. Grasping her shoulder tightly, he lowered his face to her ear and hissed, "It is customary for students to sit with their houses during mealtimes."

Anchoring herself more firmly to her seat and Spinelli, Maxie turned an angelic smile toward Severus, eyes twinkling. In a sugary voice, she ground out between her teeth, "That may be so _Professor_ Snape, but it is customary for me to sit with Spinelli." Turning away, she caught a look of warning from Harry.

"Get up at once Miss Jones," Severus pulled on Maxie's shoulder, causing her to wince. "I will not allow you to besmirch the Slytherin house. Get up and follow me at once!" He too was speaking through his teeth and, though the irritation was perfectly evident in his voice, it did not carry further than himself, Maxie, Spinelli, Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

"Fair Maximista, perhaps you should capitulate just this once," Spinelli smiled a half-smile at her and then at Severus.

"That might be a good idea," Ron gulped, watching as Severus' already white knuckles seemed to grow whiter the longer Maxie stayed in place.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal where I sit," Maxie shrugged, not looking at anyone. She suddenly felt like she was ten once again and had been caught doing something she shouldn't be. It made her feel uncomfortable, but she continued to stay rooted to the spot.

"She's got pluck," Fred or George said, winking, "I think we should keep her, what do you say Fred?" George elbowed his twin as Fred nodded enthusiastically. Both Weasley's were laughing in contrast to the near silence of the rest of the students in the Great Hall. Anyone who stood up to the stodgy Professor Snape, for whatever reason, had their support.

"Shhh…the Headmaster is about to speak," Hermione glared around at her classmates, stopping when her glare rested on the pinched face of her least favorite, though much respected professor. _Something about him was bothering her. Definitely worth looking into during the school year. Given enough time, she would get to the bottom of those curious sideways glances that the professor kept sneaking at Spinelli._

As if he could hear her thoughts, Professor Snape turned his steely glare to her and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Maxie hadn't budged and Hermione didn't think the stubborn girl would, even with Spinelli's prodding.

"Professor Snape," Albus' sonorous voice echoed in the Great Hall, though it was amiable, many of the students snickered, "why don't you join us up here, I have a few announcements to make." Severus turned red as he released his grip on Maxie's shoulder and stalked over to join Albus and the other professors on the stage, cursing beneath his breath the entire time. Maxie grinned at the small victory.

"Miss Jones, perhaps you should deign to join your house for tonight's festivities, though I must say that I like the spirit of inter-house relations which you have exhibited tonight and do hope that in the future you will continue to transcend century-long formalities which have only served to dim the bright light of Hogwarts. We must all stand together, rather than allow ourselves to be separated by small matters of house, though tonight, I am afraid, Miss Jones, that formality and such as it is, tradition should reign. Get to know some of the members of your own house as most of your time will be spent in their company. That goes not only for Miss Jones, but for all those who were sorted here tonight. Having said that, I hope that others will follow young Miss Jones' example, that each member of each house will see fit to reach out to other houses in friendship, thus creating unity. Unity, which will be of immeasurable value in the coming years."

Severus grinned in satisfaction as Maxie stood angrily, turning bright red in the process, and slowly made her way to the Slytherin table. His grin very nearly turned into a full-blown smile when it seemed that no one would give her room to sit. One of the first years took pity and gestured for her to sit next to him.

Albus continued on with his address as though there had been no disturbance, and though Severus knew he should be paying attention to what the Headmaster was saying, he allowed his mind to wander a bit and his eyes to rest on the figure of his son sitting directly across from Harry Potter. _The son of one of his hated childhood enemies and his own son had both been sorted into the same blasted house. Moreover, they had practically become friends during the horrific events of the Quidditch World Cup toward the end of summer. If James Potter were looking on from somewhere above, he was probably laughing or looking on with pride as his son befriended his own enemy's awkward son. Arrogant, prideful…_

"…we will be hosting the TriWizard Tournament this year, let us welcome our guests from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, and treat them with the same open-hearted spirit as Miss Jones…" Albus' voice was drowned out by enthusiastic shouts and he motioned for silence.

Severus paid little attention as each of the visiting schools entered with magnificent pomp, preferring to watch his son's reactions to everything. It was all new to him, and every look on his face was so telling. _Though he knew that his son was excellent when it came to the arts of legilimens and occulemens, he knew he would never be able to disguise his true feelings. Oh, he had tried to teach him to master his emotions throughout the summer and it had been an utter flop. Spinelli was much more his mother's than his father's son in that regard. Kathy had practically worn her heart on her sleeve and Severus had been careful, even at a young age to mask his true feelings. He had built magnificent walls to protect himself and the only person whom he had ever allowed behind one of those walls was Lily Evans, mother of Harry Potter, son of his enemy, friend of his son._

By the sound of boos echoing throughout the Great Hall Severus realized that he had missed something important in his musings. He also caught the curious gaze of Miss Granger boring into him and quickly turned his eyes away from the Gryffindor table to rest on the Headmaster.

"Now, I must warn you that any attempt to enter a name into the Goblet of Fire by someone who is underage will result in dire consequences," his piercing blue eyes rested on the Weasley twins, "there will be three champions chosen by the Goblet, one from each of the schools represented. Best of luck to all of those, who are of age, who choose to enter. And, now, without further ado, let the feast begin!"


	21. Unintentionally Entered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Harry Potter and Damian Spinelli are entered into the Triwizard Tournament. Snape is not happy.

"What have you done you idiot boy?" Severus towered over Spinelli who shrunk beneath the Potions Master's angry glare. At this moment, Spinelli understood why some of the younger students, and even some of the older ones, compared the professor to a bat.

Gulping, Spinelli took a step backward and found himself flush against the stone wall, "I…I…" he stammered unable to form a coherent thought let alone a sentence as the man who had cared for him over the summer pierced him with an irate glower. _When his name along with Harry Potter's had been pulled from the Goblet of Fire after Viktor Krum had been called as Durmstrang's representative and Fleur Delacour had been called as Beauxbaton's, both boys had exchanged a look of dread. Neither of them, they had talked on the way to Dumbledore's office, had entered his name into the Goblet. They were both under age and neither had an interest in entering the contest. Spinelli was new to magic and, though Maximista had told him that he was in actuality twenty-something, he felt very much like a fourteen-year-old. Right now he was a very terrified fourteen-year-old. Both Dumbledore and Snape had yelled at each of them in turn. He had never seen anyone this angry in his life, this was even worse than when Granny had received a call from the FBI in regard to some of his internet activities. Snape had expressed anger toward Harry, but the look he was leveling at Spinelli right now caused him to shiver and cower in fear._

"Severus," Albus placed a placating hand on his friend's arm, but Severus shook it off, "Severus!" The Potions Master tore his murderous gaze away from his shaking son and turned it toward his mentor. Smiling tightly, Albus offered his hand to Spinelli and helped him to his shaky feet, "It is obvious that someone has entered both Harry and Damien's names into the Goblet," he looked around at the representatives from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as well as the Ministry representative, Barty Crouch. "Both boys have assured us that they did not enter their own names," Albus pierced each boy with an intense look as though he were reading their minds before turning once again to look at the other adults in the room.

"If neither boy entered his name into the Goblet, then how were both of their names chosen by the Goblet?" Mistress Maxime implored, piercing each trembling boy with a look of her own.

"You saw what happened when Fred and George Weasley both attempted to fool the Goblet with their aging potion, both names were rejected," Albus turned away from the boys and spoke to the adults, "someone has tampered with the Goblet."

"Should we call the contest off?" Mistress Maxime queried.

"No!" Professor Karkaroff of Durmstrang exclaimed, shooting a look in Severus' direction, "You will simply have to choose one of the two boys or…"

"No, the rules are very strict," Barty Crouch interrupted, "both boys were chosen by the Goblet to represent Hogwarts; both boys will participate in the Triwizard Tournament."

"But surely there must be an exception in such a case," Severus implored, not daring to look in either Spinelli or Potter's direction.

"I'm afraid not, the Goblet's decision will stand," Barty Crouch stated, a frown firmly in place, "now, if you will excuse me, I have other business to attend to," he exited the crowded office with a simple nod in Albus' direction.

"No," Severus rounded on Albus, "neither Potter nor Spinelli is ready for such a tournament."

"It's unfair that Hogwarts has two champions," Karkaroff and Maxime spoke simultaneously.

"Well, what has been done has been done," Albus said almost to himself while scrutinizing the two young men who were both eyeing each other warily.

"Harry, Damien," Albus smiled, "why don't you two head off to Gryffindor tower."

Both boys nodded vigorously as they headed toward the exit without a backward glance at the adults in the room. Severus reached out an arm to stop both boys, "Harry, Damien," he ground out, "don't leave the tower."

"Uh okay Professor," Harry stammered, casting a curious look in Spinelli's direction.

"Um, sure," Spinelli's face clouded in confusion, "we will abide within the confines of Gryffindor tower."

Severus released his grip on the boys, his eyes following them out the door.

"They'll be fine," Albus assured his friend.

"What do you think happened?" Severus reluctantly turned to face the headmaster, "Do you really believe that Potter and Spinelli had nothing to do with this?"

"I do," Albus nodded.

"Who would want to put their names into the Goblet?" Severus wondered aloud.

"I've been trying to put my finger on it," Karkaroff tapped his chin with an index finger, "who that young boy, what was his name? Damien? Looks like…" he trailed off, giving Severus a searching look.

"Sorry Mistress Maxime, Professor Karakaroff, if you would be so kind as to excuse us, Professor Snape and I have much to discuss regarding the academic school year, " Albus cut Karkaroff's inquiry short as he shook hands with each in turn and gestured for Severus to take a seat.

* * *

 

Spinelli and Harry entered Gryffindor tower and nearly turned back the way they had come. Every member of Gryffindor was in the common room, waiting for them, and much to their surprise, there were a few members of Slytherin awaiting them as well. Spinelli visibly relaxed when he caught sight of Maxie, but his brow furrowed in confusion at the blonde-haired boy standing next to her. _What was Draco Malfoy doing here with Maximista?_ The blonde Slytherin was not someone Spinelli trusted and he couldn't understand why Maximista always seemed to be in his presence as she seemed just as put out as he was about it.

Watching the confusion play out on Spinelli's face, Maxie stepped forward, noting that Draco mirrored her movements and the Gryffindors glared at the both of them. Grasping Spinelli's face in her hands, "Professor Snape insisted that Draco accompany me everywhere I go to _remind me that I am a Slytherin and teach me the ropes_ ," she explained with an exaggerated huff as she planted a kiss on his lips.

"Oh," Spinelli smiled self-consciously as he stepped further into the room. Draco glared at him and he smiled, giving the boy a half wave in return.

"Apparently some of us think they are above the rules," the Slytherin boy drawled, shooting a withering look at both boys before suddenly coming to his senses and remembering that he was in the lair of, for all intents and purposes, his 'enemies' and was far outnumbered. Swallowing nervously, he stepped closer to Maxie and lowered his gaze.

"Oh come off it Malfoy, you just wish you could've figured out how to do it yourself," Fred slapped the blonde on the back, grinning at Harry and Spinelli, "speaking of which, how did you two pull it off?"

"Uh, we didn't," Harry supplied, sharing a look with Spinelli who nodded in acquiescence, "we don't know how our names got in there."

"Sure, sure," George shook his head, patting both Harry and Spinelli on the back. Clearly he did not believe them.

"What happened?" Maxie leaned closer to Spinelli, resting her head on his chest.

"Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape questioned us and rightly concluded; well at least I am fairly certain that Headmaster Dumbledore correctly judged that neither Harry nor I were witting participants of the debacle which has unfolded this evening, Professor Snape…I believe he maintains certain reservations regarding our innocence in the matter," Spinelli explained, resting his chin on Maxie's head and momentarily closing his eyes in pleasure as he breathed in the sweet scent of lilac and vanilla which embodied her.

"Figures that Snape wouldn't believe you," Ron, not looking at Harry or Spinelli, grumbled from his place on the couch.

"Come have a seat," Fred gestured to the two Gryffindors who were still standing just inside the entrance, "regale us with the tale of how you two rascals managed to cheat the Goblet of Fire and become Hogwart's chosen champions for the Triwizard Tournament."

"Fred," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes as he took a seat in one of the offered armchairs, "seriously, we don't know why we were chosen." Spinelli sat in the armchair next to the one Harry had chosen, Maxie curled up next to him and Draco stood guard next to her, feeling extremely conspicuous and not particularly safe.

"C'mon, spill," George's eyes sparkled in anticipation.

"There's nothing to tell," Harry drew a hand through his disheveled hair, throwing an exasperated look in Spinelli's direction.

"The Unfairly Marked One is telling the unblemished truth," Spinelli looked from Fred to George before glancing around Gryffindor's common room, "neither he nor the Jackal of wizardry had a personal hand in their casting as Hogwart's Champions for the honored Triwizard Tournament."

"Then how were you and Harry chosen?" Hermione questioned, tapping a finger to her chin thoughtfully as she pondered, "It must've been the work of a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You and Harry could be in grave danger," her eyes went wide as she looked from Harry to Spinelli, possibilities of the dangers they could face at the hands of Death Eaters churning in her head.

Her thoughtful gaze lingered on Spinelli for longer than Maxie was comfortable with and the young blonde grasped her friend's hand possessively. She really did not like how Hermione looked at Spinelli and, if she could read people well, and she could, she doubted that Ronald Weasley was enjoying the attention that Spinelli was receiving from the bushy-haired girl either. _Hmmm….that might be an angle to work to their mutual advantage._ Casting a calculating look in the brooding red-head's direction, she resolved to find an opportunity to talk with him alone.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Honestly Granger, when hasn't Potter here been in _grave danger_ as you somelodramatically put it? He's been a danger magnet since he stepped foot in Hogwarts what with his constant desire for fame as the hallowed Boy-Who-Lived. I bet he put his own name in the Goblet and coerced Spinelli here to join him." He jerked a thumb in the former hacker's direction.

"Why are you here again?" George glared at Draco who sneered in return.

"You saw what happened to Fred and George when they tried to get past Dumbledore's age restrictions," Hermione gestured toward the twins, giving them a reproachful glare which caused each to look away hastily, "neither of them succeeded and, no offense Harry or Damien, but, well, being as we are only fourth years and given that, well, Harry, you are not particularly brilliant when it comes to Potions," Hermione bit her lower lip, "I just don't see how either of you could have fooled Dumbledore's underage restrictions, well, not unless you were actually older than you appear to be."

Maxie glared daggers in the young witch's direction. _That girl was just too nosy for her own good. She would have to do something to dissuade the brown-haired know-it-all, goody-goody from pursuing her current train of thought. She doubted that it would be a good thing for the young witch to learn that both she and Spinelli were in fact twenty-something years old rather than the fourteen-year-olds they appeared to be. Professor McGonagall would no doubt have a coronary and Professor Snape,_ Maxie scowled in thought, _would probably hex them all into oblivion regardless of anyone's innocence in the matter. Hermione Granger would simply need to be brought down a peg or two._ That decided, Maxie snuggled closer to Spinelli.

"The Brilliant One has a most excellent point," Spinelli smiled nervously. In reality, he was twenty-something, even if he didn't feel like it. _He shivered at the thought of what might happen should the truth be ascertained and become common knowledge at Hogwarts. What would the Sinisteresque Potions Professor do to him should Hermione learn the truth?_

_The professor had been livid when his and Harry's names had issued from the Goblet of Fire. He had never had anger turned on him in such a manner, at least not that he could recall. He knew that there were events in his past that he couldn't remember, some side-effect of the age reversal, but he doubted that he had ever been on the receiving end of such antagonism. Even when the Jackal had sworn truthfully that he had not entered his name into the contest, the Sinisteresque One's anger had not relented._

_Sure, the fame and glory of the Triwizard Tournament had appealed to him. Just the thought of standing in the winning circle with Maximista at his side, beaming proudly had caused him to seriously consider entering the contest. He wanted nothing more than to prove himself worthy of Maximista and his new friends, but he knew that he was not ready for it. He had only been studying magic for the past two months after all._

_No, he had not entered his name in the contest, though inside he had ached to do so, to prove himself to the woman he loved and to someone else who lingered at the edge of his memory. Someone whose name kept slipping from conscious grasp. Someone whom he instinctually knew he wanted, no, needed, to prove himself to. If only he could remember his name and what the nature of their relationship had been. Was this ever elusive emotionally-detached man he kept dreaming of his father or was he a figment of his over-active imagination?_


	22. Leaving No Stones Unturned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is not content just to let Spinelli disappear.

**Port Charles**

Jason paced the length of the room in front of the couch where the hacker, recently acquired by Sonny, sat typing frantically away at the keyboard on his new state-of-the-art laptop. He had insisted upon it first thing when Sonny Corinthos had approached him about working with his right-hand man, Jason Morgan. If he was expected to put up with the infamous, 'Stone Cold', he was going to make sure that he was well compensated for it and upfront, unlike many of his less-savvy predecessors who had already been 'let go of' or been driven away by the oft drunken man who now paced menacingly in front of him.

Sonny had cautioned him not to try the man's patience and he was doing his best not to irk him, knowing that Jason Morgan was likely to throw him out without so much as a 'thank you'. If he didn't do much damage to him on his way out, Sonny surely would make good on his threat of breaking each of his thumbs. He did not relish the thought of arousing either man's temper, besides it was nice to finally have money for decent clothes, not to mention food.

"You're not working fast or hard enough!" Jason accused the young computer hacker who was sitting on his couch. The stench of whiskey coming from the mob enforcer's breath had the young man cringing and scooting backwards on the couch.

"I have been working non-stop for the past month," the young man swallowed the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. Rubbing his red-rimmed, sleep-deprived eyes, he looked up at the inebriated man with trepidation, "It's impossible," he sighed, a note of pleading in his voice. "There isn't a single trace on the web of either Damian Spinelli or Maxie Jones," he stifled a yawn, knowing that it could very well be the death of him.

"Spinelli would have had it done by now!" Jason towered over the younger man, a mad gleam in his bloodshot eyes, spittle spewing from his lips and onto the pale cheeks of the trembling young man who looked too damn much like Spinelli for his liking. _Sonny had probably done it on purpose, chosen an almost exact replica of the young man who considered himself to be his 'grasshopper', whatever the hell that meant,_ Jason fumed, turning his murderous gaze on the Spinelli-imposter.

"I'm not Spinelli!" The young hacker shouted, pushing past the obnoxious older man. _To hell with Sonny Corinthos' warning. No way in hell would he put up with being treated like this for another minute._ He'd put up with the insults, the drunken mobster's angry outbursts, and the fear of being physically assaulted for far too long. A month living under those conditions was an eternity. _So what if he would have to go back living in his parent's basement? They would take him back once they knew that he had been starving and going without decent clothing for the past year, until this job, that is, which would be the death of him one way or another if he didn't quit soon._

Most of the hackers hired by the distraught Jason Morgan or Sonny Corinthos since the disappearance of Spinelli had made it through one or two weeks. One had only made it through a half a day having enraged the mob enforcer by disabusing the notion that Spinelli might still be alive. Jason went on a rampage. The hacker had been lucky to leave the apartment in one piece that day.

Spinelli been declared dead three months ago, his cold, bluing body lying inert on a metal slab in the morgue. Jason had seen the body himself, he refused to think of it as Spinelli. No, it was an empty, lifeless body without a semblance of the young man who had embraced life with spirit and vivacity. It had no spark to it, no lilting voice so often times filled with hope and occasionally righteous indignation on the behalf of others for he rarely spoke on his own behalf, preferring instead to take the insult and anomalously turn the other cheek. No the dispirited body beneath the stiff, white sheet was not Spinelli.

It was only in his interminable absence that Jason began to realize what the young man meant to him. He was annoying at times and talked more than any self-respecting guy should, but Jason had come to rely on Spinelli as a sort of makeshift compass pointing him in the right direction. He was un surpassingly brilliant in many respects, but lacked common sense. And, to top it off, the kid had it backwards, he wasn't the grasshopper; it was Jason who was his grasshopper. He was the one who needed Spinelli's counsel, the one who needed his guidance. Without Spinelli he was lost, just going through the motions of life and not even doing that very well. Spinelli had no right to do this to him damnit, he had no right to leave him behind.

When Maxie Jones had insisted that the young man was alive after his body had gone missing, he wanted to strangle her, Spinelli be damned. How dare she make such proclamations? How dare she insinuate that Spinelli was still alive? If that were the case then why the hell was the young man not hovering somewhere nearby, constantly at his heels seeking his attention and his approval? Why hadn't he sought him out? Why hadn't he returned?

Graciously dismissing her declarations as the denial of someone in mourning, he tried to offer her comfort, though his own heart felt leaden and dead in his chest. It wasn't until she too had gone missing shortly thereafter that he began to look into the disappearance of Spinelli and as a byproduct, Maxie. He rescinded his authority to Sonny and took on the role of mob enforcer once more, using the bulk of his time to search every nook and cranny for Spinelli and Maxie. He'd spent copious amounts of money hiring private investigators, hackers, and even going so far as to hire bounty hunters, exhausting nearly every single resource at his disposal. Sonny was ready to fire him and, truth be told, he wasn't sure whether or not that would be such a bad thing.

Turning his glazed eyes on the hacker who'd unfairly borne the brunt of his anger for the past month, he pointed to the door. "Out," the command was spoken softly, without heat and yet the messy-haired, doe-eyed youth shot off the couch as though he had been pushed to his feet from behind. He was at the door before Jason could fully register that the boy had moved.

Hesitating at the entryway, his hand still on the doorknob which would allow him access to fresh air and freedom, he looked back at the man who, in his current broken state still managed to scare the living crap out of the bravest of men, of which he was decidedly not, "I'm sorry Mr. Morgan," he lowered his head, "I truly hope that you find them, that you find him. He was," he bit his lip in contemplation, "no, he is the best hacker out there, the Jackal of cyberspace." And smiling crookedly, apologetically, the boy left.

* * *

 

_Oh dear not another one_ , Alma Quinn shook her head as the bleary-eyed disheveled youngster shuffled his way past her hidden post in the hallway. He shivered slightly in passing and looked around warily, his eyes held dark bags beneath them from lack of sleep. _Tsking_ silently, she waited until he was securely out of earshot before whispering a fervent prayer for the man it was her turn to watch out for. He had driven yet another person out of his life. _She had lost count of how many of those, what did he call them, hockers? No, that didn't sound right…honkers? Halkers? Nothing doing, she'd just have to ask Horace when he relieved her in the evening, he was good with remembering all of these strange Muggle words that she couldn't put her mind, let alone her tongue around._

When Albus had decided to set up watchers around Port Charles after Maxie Jones' disappearance, to ensure the safety of the Muggles whom Spinelli had known, Alma had been one of the first to volunteer for the assignment. She jumped gladly at the opportunity to do something which would get her away from the familiar coast near her home and from the memories which plagued her sleeping and waking moments. She and Horace both offered to relocate to Port Charles for the next foreseeable future to both watch and protect those who had been in Spinelli's sphere from those in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Even thinking that title sent shivers up and down her spine and caused her to look furtively over her shoulder in paranoia. Though he had seemingly been defeated by the rebounding killing curse when the Boy-Who-Lived's mother sacrificed her life for her son, wizards and witches still feared the once powerful wizard and his predicted return.

She was more than willing to do her part for the side of the light and the ultimate defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but that wasn't what had drawn her to this particular post. She could be watching out for and protecting any number of the citizens of Port Charles, and yet she had asked for this particular assignment, though it pained her.

The man she dedicated her time to watching, Jason Morgan, reminded her of the son she had lost to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was his death which had thrust Horace and her into the war in the first place. His death which had been the unwanted, unasked for catalyst of change in their lives. His death, which convinced them that the war was something they could no longer quietly ignore as they went about their lives in blissful ignorance. His death which had torn that blissful ignorance from them in one brief horror filled moment. His death which had brought them to their knees in agony and spurred them into service with Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix against the one whom their son had dedicated and given his life to serve.

Their beloved son had become a Death Eater in secret, had taken part in raids ordered by the dark lord he served and had taken lives under his instructions to do so. He had not questioned the one he served, but merely obeyed, believing the sociopathic sycophant to be the savior of the wizarding world, the one who would bring about justice for wizardkind. Alma was horrified when he'd eagerly shown her the mark he had taken. She had tried to talk sense into her son, but he wouldn't listen to reason. He had his heart set on following a man unworthy of him and had given his life in a cause which was not just.

Jason Morgan reminded Alma of her sweet, sweet Nolan who had unwittingly given his life in service of a madman bent on world domination. She watched as the man slowly unraveled day-after-day in Spinelli's absence. She watched as he started to turn to the bottle for comfort and solace it would never be able to offer. She watched as he turned away each and every person who attempted to help him. She watched and she watched and she grew weary of her watching.

Her anger knew no bounds when it came to watching Jason's interactions with Sonny Corinthos. It reminded her too much of Nolan and his service to the dark lord. Jason did as he was ordered, no questions asked. Nolan had as well; it was this blind obedience which led to his untimely death.

Jason killed people, Alma had watched tight-lipped and heavy-hearted, unable in her position to do anything to stop him. She found little solace in the fact that those he killed were no innocents, often having ties with Port Charles' own version of the dark side. They too were killers and had suffered the same fate as they dealt out to others. Jason was merely acting as an agent of that fate. Whereas her son, beloved as he was, had preyed on the innocent, believing in his twisted, brainwashed way of thinking that he was doing the right thing and aiding the wizarding world.

So, when Jason exited his apartment at approximately ten minutes to the time when Horace was scheduled to take over Alma's post, she decided that enough was enough, and threw Dumbledore's cautions to the wind. She would no longer stand by and quietly watch as the man, who looked so much like her Nolan, steadily drank his life away in some local pub. No, Alma Quinn had experienced her life's fill of merely watching events in the lives of those she cared about unfold until there was nothing left of them to unfold. She would put a stop to this tonight, even if it cost her everything.

* * *

 

Hogwarts

"I still don't see why you had to follow me like some lost puppy dog all the way to Gryffindor Tower," Maxie huffed as she and Draco walked along the corridors of the castle, long after curfew. The 'celebration' in the common room was no doubt still going on, but Draco had insisted that they return to Slytherin before they were caught by the ever dreaded Professor Snape. _What was his problem anyway? The man was infuriatingly annoying and overbearing, even more so than Mac and Mac had a reason to be that way. Professor Snape had no right to subject her to the likes of Draco Malfoy in an effort to keep her from associating with Gryffindor and, in particular, Spinelli. What was up with this school anyway, why couldn't she befriend anyone she wanted to? Why was everything tied to one's house sorting? Well, this is one Slytherin who will associate with whomever she chooses regardless of house._

"I told you," Draco sneered, "Professor Snape told me, and I quote, 'You are to accompany Ms. Jones throughout the castle this evening. You do not wish to know the consequence of disobeying me.'" He did a passable impression of the professor, shivering slightly in mock fear at the end. Maxie's lip quirked up much of its own recourse, it had been humorous even coming from the insufferable Draco Malfoy, son of the wizard who had accosted her at General Hospital and dragged her into this living nightmare.

"Well, you could have dropped the whole puppy dog act, it makes you look," Maxie tapped her lower lip in thought, "undignified."

"Puppy dog act?" Draco grimaced at the less than accurate description of his behavior at the Gryffindor soiree. "You wish, the only puppy dog act I saw was that boyfriend of yours, Spinelli, practically drooling all over you. How on earth he made it past those age wards is beyond me. The kid's nearly as dense as Potter and his pal Weasley."

Maxie spun on her heel, thrusting her wand beneath the blonde-haired wizard's chin, "Don't you ever speak that way about Spinelli again," she whispered menacingly, "or you will wish that you had never even heard the word, 'magic.'" She jabbed his neck with the wand, "Is that clear or do I need to spell it out for you?"

Unable to find his voice, Draco simply nodded his head dumbly and breathed a deep sigh of relief when she removed her wand from his neck and resumed the walk to the Slytherin common room. He scrambled to catch up with her, rubbing his throat to ease the discomfort.

"Please don't hex me," Draco began, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, wand tucked firmly in his robes, but readily available should the girl make another attack on his person, "but I have to ask, what is it that you see in Spinelli? I mean he kind of looks like a younger version of Professor Snape, except he doesn't have a hooked nose and his hair is much less greasy."

"Oh please," Maxie rolled her eyes, and muttered the password at the portrait guarding the entrance to Slytherin, "Professor Snape is no more Spinelli's long lost father than I am the long lost daughter of Dumbledore. Seriously," Maxie laughed as they entered into Slytherin's common room. Neither of them noticed the dark figure standing in the shadows, listening to their every word; watching them intently with dark eyes.

_He had made the right choice, he was sure of it, and the Dark Lord would be pleased with him when he returned to power. He would once more be in the service of the Dark Lord and would serve at his right hand. Maybe he would even be the one to help train Severus Snape's son, once the boy had been properly inducted as a Death Eater. Wouldn't Severus be proud of his son? Unless of course the rumors about the man were true, that he was a spy for Dumbledore. Then his jealousy and his loss would be paramount as he toppled from the top ranks of the Death Eaters. Whether Snape was loyal or not, his son, would be trained in service to the Dark Lord as the prophecy had foretold. He could remember the words of the prophecy even now as he had been the one to witness it fifteen odd years ago._

* * *

 

"Spinelli," Harry and he were the only two left in the common room, the rest had finally gone to bed.

"Yes?" Spinelli bit back a yawn.

"You really didn't put your name in the Goblet?" Harry looked down at his robes; a crimson blush bloomed from his cheeks to his forehead.

"No, the magical neophyte did not dare to defy the headmaster's dire proclamation, you?" Spinelli pinned Harry with a searching look.

"No, no I didn't," Harry looked up earnestly, eager to have his new friend believe him, even if no one else did. After all, they were both in this particular nightmare together, "I wonder who did. Enter us, that is. I mean," Harry trailed off.

"What would a witch or wizard have to gain by entering two underage wizards into an interschool competition," Spinelli finished his thought.

"Not just any two underage wizards though," Harry stated, "whoever did this entered the heralded, 'Boy Who Lived,' and the mysterious, 'Boy of Unknown Death Eater Parentage,' I think that is one of the catchier titles that you have been given by the _Daily Prophet_."

"I don't know, I think I prefer the, 'Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing,' at least it has some merit as an allusion," Spinelli smirked.

"But don't forget the vapidly redundant, 'Boy Who Lives to Defeat the Boy Who Lived,'" both boys laughed as they headed up to their beds for the night.

* * *

 

"Severus," Albus placated once more, "I am sure that Spinelli will do just fine."

"How can you be so sure?" Severus displaced the comforting hand his mentor had placed on his arm, "The boy barely knows a fourth year equivalent of magic. He is struggling to stay abreast of his studies and now he has to face insurmountable odds in a contest which is difficult for a properly trained sixth or seventh year student to traverse. Tell me how is the boy going to do _just fine_ as you put it? Just the other day he nearly toppled to his death as the stairs shifted."

"Severus," Albus spoke in a conciliatory tone, "you know that the school has protective wards and that no student has been killed on the stairs."

"Those wards are not impervious," Severus glowered, "They allowed for a known criminal to trespass, not only the grounds, but also within the castle itself and kept an illegal animagus hidden within the students' dorms. They allowed for a basilisk to petrify students and a professor to nearly commit murder. And to top it all off, both Potter's and Spinelli's names have been entered into a goblet which should have rejected their names before they had even reached the fires issuing forth from it. You know as well as I do that the wards placed here are not infallible. Both Spinelli and Potter are in grave danger through this tournament and I have told you Albus that the mark on my arm is growing more distinct. The Dark Lord is coming back and soon. I do not wish my son to be pressed into his service, nor do I wish for Potter to wind up on the wrong side of another killing curse aimed at him." Severus ended his rant and flopped into the armchair he had vacated, electing to pace back and forth in Albus' office while he vented.

"Severus," Albus waited until the dark, wary eyes met his own, "we will do all in our power to make sure that Spinelli and Potter make it through this tournament in one piece. I am sure that the rest of the staff will be willing to help as well, after all cheating, though it is not condoned, has always been part of the tradition of these tournaments and I for one am not one to flout traditions whether they be good or bad." Albus leaned back in his chair, eyes atwinkle.

Severus groaned, resting his head in his hands. He could not share Albus' optimism. Both Spinelli and Potter had little chance of making it past the first stage of the game. Neither boy stood a chance against the other two contestants. No, he could not share in the Headmaster's delusions. He would, however, do everything in his power to equip both of them for each task, if only to keep them alive.


	23. Explanations and Dragons

Spinelli couldn't believe it, Maxie, his Maximista, was sitting with Draco Malfoy, the slick Slytherin snake, during Potions instead of him. He tried to wipe the look of pain off his face before anyone noticed. He knew that he was not much to look at with his dark messy hair which seemed to hang in limp, greasy clumps more and more nowadays. He blamed it on the damp atmosphere of the castle. It seemed that no matter what he did with his hair, it persisted in remaining flaccid and fulsome; it even gave off a paltry oily odor. Scowling at the unfairness of his situation, he looked up to see Hermione staring at him with a discerning frown.

She took the seat next to him and glanced up at Professor Snape who sat at his desk, with a scowl on his face. She tilted her head and once again peered closely at Spinelli and then back at the Professor. Eyes narrowing in comprehension, she plopped her books on the desk between them with a soft, thud, and turned to Spinelli, "May I be your partner for Potions today?"

"The Novice Magical Apprentice would be honored," he bowed his head and gave Hermione a slight smile. The pain at seeing Maximista with the Slytherin snake was not completely eased, but it was down to a dull ache now.

"Potter," Professor Snape greeted as the boy walked into class just as the bell sounded. "How nice of you to grace us with your presence today," his voice was even oilier than his slick hair, "ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry merely sighed as he took a seat next to Ron, who was steadfastly ignoring him, and busied himself with arranging his supplies for class. Spinelli waited for him to lift his head and offered him a conciliatory smile which Harry half-heartedly returned. Both boys missed the scrutiny of their dour professor as they began working on the day's lesson. It was going to be a long day and they still had to figure out what the first task for the tournament would be.

* * *

Jason fumed as he paced in the living room. He had just thrown the latest in a running list of wannabe Jackals out of the penthouse and was growing weary of ever being able to successfully retrieve his friend from the hands of the villains who had him. For he was convinced that he was being held against his will, that he was even now trying to make his way back to Port Charles, back to him, his mentor in all things.

A timid knock at the door rent a low growl from the back of his throat. _If this is another one of those good for nothing hackers looking to replace Spinelli, I will wring someone's neck!_ He'd had enough, he was going to call Sam and the two of them would find Spinelli and Maxie Jones.

"Yes?" Jason ground out, blinking his eyes in confusion as his glare was currently facing, not an intrepid computer genius, but an empty hallway. He moved to close the door, but, much to his surprise and rising anger, the door wouldn't budge. It remained stubbornly open as though some invisible doorstop had been wedged into place. A momentary panic had him attempting to push out of the door only to be met with a solid, clearly invisible mass. _Maybe I have been drinking too much lately._

Walking back into his apartment, he quickly reached into his closet and pulled out his gun. Swiftly arming his weapon, he went back to the still open door and, crouching, he peeked out into the hall. "Show yourself!" He took a careful look around the hall and once again attempted to shut the door. It was still stuck. "What the hell…" Jason was knocked off his feet by an invisible force and the gun was whipped out of his hand. He flew across the room, cracking his head on the desk.

Silvery stars swirled in his vision as he attempted to rise. Something held him firmly in place; it was as though his body had been locked into place. He couldn't move and, in spite of his best efforts, he began to panic. _What the hell is going on? Why can't I move?_

* * *

Potions class went by in a blur for Spinelli, he couldn't wait to get out of the room and away from Draco and Maximista. He felt a pang of guilt when he glanced sideways at Hermione. She had completed their potion almost completely on her own, not that such a thing was out of the ordinary for her when she worked with Ron or Harry, but Spinelli seemed to have an aptitude for the subject in spite of coming into it much later than the bushy haired girl next to him, and he felt guilty for having her do most of the work.

"Hermione," he turned to the girl as they were leaving the room, "the Jackal offers his most heartfelt apologies…"

Hermione waved him off before he could finish, "Don't worry about it, you actually helped more than Ron usually does." Though she had spoken it with an air of dismissal, Spinelli noticed that her knuckles clutching her bag were white.

Draco and Maxie brushed past the two on their way out of the potions classroom. Maxie turned toward the pair, her mouth open to speak, but Draco pulled on her arm and hissed something into her ear. She glowered and lowered her head, allowing the Slytherin to cart her off down the corridor.

"What do you think that's about?" Harry, the last out of the room, had taken in the whole scene as he exited the classroom. He knew that Spinelli liked the blonde Slytherin girl, in spite of the fact that she was in their rivalry's house, but for the life of him couldn't understand why. She seemed to take the soft-spoken Gryffindor for granted much of the time and dismissed him when it suited her purposes.

"Never mind them, remember Professor Snape allegedly commissioned Malfoy to keep an eye on her," Hermione glared after the blonde couple and tucked her arm in Spinelli's, "come on, let's go get some lunch."

* * *

"Horace!" Alma Quinn glared at her husband as she closed the door to Jason's apartment, "It was unnecessary for you to use such force." Horace's face grew red under his wife's scrutiny, but she was kneeling over Jason and missed the tongue he stuck out at her.

"Honestly, I think you caused the young man a concussion," she pierced her husband with a fierce glare and stabbed a finger in his direction.

"He had a weapon," Horace grew even redder, "I did what I did to protect you. I suppose that all would be right as rain if he had shot me, just as long as he," he gestured in the direction of Jason and his angry wife, "remained uninjured. He is _not_ our son!"

"I know that," Alma hissed.

"Do you? Do you even know what you are doing?" Horace's voice rose with vehemence, "You must realize," here he was pleading, "what Dumbledore will do when we show up with this young man. He won't be welcoming us with open arms. We were assigned to protect those in the sphere of Damian Spinelli and Maxie Jones."

"You do what you need to Horace," Alma turned away from her husband and quickly assessed Jason's injuries. Thankfully the knot forming on the back of his head did not appear to be accompanied with a concussion. Satisfied that Jason Morgan was not gravely injured she patted his cheek and smiled at him. "You might suffer a bit of a headache due to my husband's lack of common sense, but otherwise you will be fine."

"Who the hell are you?" Jason's voice, much to his embarrassment, came out scratchy and as little more than a whisper. "What do you want with me? Do you know where Spinelli and Maxie are? Who is Dumbledore?" If they had been sent to protect those in Spinelli and Maxie's sphere maybe they would know where they had been taken. Jason's heart hitched in hope.

The couple who had entered the sanctuary of his penthouse held long sticks in their hands, the man pointed his at him like it was some sort of weapon, the woman had waved hers over his head and body as though performing some sort of bizarre medical exam. As crazy and improbable as his current situation seemed, he was willing to play along with it, even if it were no more than some alcohol induced hallucination.

"My name is Alma Quinn," Alma turned in her husband's direction, "that dolt is Horace Quinn. We have been assigned to watch over you, to keep you safe from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"

"Humph," Horace interrupted his wife's explanation, "you do realize that this young man has no idea what you are talking about. He probably doesn't even believe in magic, let alone know the importance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"What?" Jason shifted his eyes from one intruder to the other, his body, slouched against his desk, was still locked in the awkward position; he couldn't even move his head. _Magic? Great, either this is one hell of a hallucination or I have lost my mind. Either that or these two are lunatics._

Alma sighed deeply and waved her wand over Jason releasing him from the bind Horace had put him in. "There, that should be better," she glared once more at her husband before turning back to Jason who had hesitantly begun to move. "Here, let me help you up," she hooked an arm under Jason's and helped him to his feet. Horace kept his wand on Jason, ready to bind him should he do anything to harm his wife.

Alma led Jason to his couch and, dumbfounded, still thinking that he was hallucinating, he sat. There was no other sane explanation for what was happening. He wasn't even sure he cared if he was losing his mind. If it brought him some measure of comfort, who was he to complain? Giving himself fully to this fantasy his besotted mind had concocted, he turned to Alma, awaiting her explanation.

"Well, it all began…" Alma gave Jason a brief history of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's first attempt to rule the world, his fall, and his return as well as a brief introduction into the world of magic which, for the most part, peacefully and secretly co-existed with the non-magical world. Horace jumped in on a few occasions, adding bits and pieces of information where he felt his wife's explanation was lacking. Bewildered, Jason listened without interrupting. When they had finished, silence enveloped the room.

Rubbing at his bloodshot eyes, Jason looked over at Alma, "What does any of this have to do with Spinelli and Maxie?"

"Well," Alma cleared her throat, unsure of just how much to share with the distraught young man who reminded her so much of her Nolan.

"Wait a minute," Jason stood abruptly, "does that mean…" he paced the length of the couch, trying to wrap his mind around the preposterous story he had just heard.

"Yes," Alma stood as well, "Master Spinelli is a wizard and Miss Jones is a witch."

"But," Jason turned pained eyes on the witch, "I don't understand why they were taken. And how come I didn't know, I mean Spinelli was my roommate, surely I would have known if he was able to perform magic."

"I'm sorry," Alma placed a gentle hand on Jason's arm, "I don't know everything, but Master Spinelli and Miss Jones were placed at a special school for wizards for their safety. They are under the care of Albus Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards of our time. I have heard rumors…" she bit her lower lip, unsure of whether to share what she had not yet substantiated herself.

Jason's eyes, hard, pleading, bore into hers and she shook off her misgivings, clearing her throat, she began again, "I have heard rumors that Master Spinelli is the son of an important Death Eater, that's a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wants him brought into his inner circle. He wants to train him in the dark arts himself, like a son. Albus Dumbledore and others who are on the side of the light are doing all that they can to conceal his identity from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and keep him from being captured."

"Does Spinelli know all of this?"

"I am not sure how much he has been told, but my guess is that he does not know everything."

"Who's this Death Eater?" Jason's hands clenched into fists at his side.

"There are many rumors about that as well," Horace sat down heavily on the couch, "anyone from the crazy Barty Crouch Jr. to the dubious spy for the light, Severus Snape, has been rumored to be your friend's father. Albus Dumbledore has not enlightened us."

"Take me to him," Jason headed for the door.

"It's not as simple as that," Alma waved her wand and Jason found the door impossible for him to open.

He turned and glared at the witch, "Are you going to take me to him or not?" His voice had grown dangerous.

"Yes, but first I need to make it possible for you to safely enter the world of magic, though I have picked up faint readings of magical ability," she scrutinized Jason, "I am not sure if that is residual from when Master Spinelli lived here or if it is coming from you. Have you ever done something that you could not explain?" Jason shook his head, he couldn't remember if he had ever done anything which could remotely be attributed to magic, but highly doubted it. _Me, a wizard? Yeah, right._

A harried knock on the door broke into the silence which had descended upon the room and Alma incanted something under her breath before tucking her wand away. Jason turned to answer the door and was relieved to find Sam McCall on the other side. He hurriedly invited her into the penthouse, hastily forming an explanation for the odd couple currently standing in his living room, but when he turned around, the couple was no longer there. It was as though they had vanished into thin air.

Jason's knees buckled, _it had all been some horrific vision. Spinelli was never coming back._

"Jason!" Sam dragged the stunned man over to the couch. "Jason, look at me." Jason's tear-filled eyes struggled to comply to the command. "What's wrong?"

"Spinelli," he choked out, "it was nothing but a hallucination."

"What?" Sam looked at Jason with concern. _Had he finally lost his mind?_ She knew he had been drinking more and more lately, but hadn't thought things had gotten this bad. "Come on Jason; let's get you upstairs, I think a good night's sleep will do you some good." She pulled on his arm, but he wouldn't budge.

"They were here," he whispered hoarsely, "they promised to take me to him."

"Who was here?" Sam swiveled around, looking for someone else in the empty room.

"There was a witch and a wizard," he murmured, "Spinelli, he's a wizard and Maxie, she's a witch…"

"That's it, it's time to get you to bed," Sam didn't let any of the alarm she felt at Jason's crazy word enter her voice, though it threatened to overcome her. _Spinelli a wizard and Maxie a witch? Jason had gone off the deep end, perhaps a good night's sleep would help him come to his senses_. If not Sam saw no other option than committing him to the psych ward.

"No!" Jason wrenched his arm from her grasp and stood. Anger flared in his eyes, "Get out Sam." It was said just above a whisper, but Sam backed away in fear.

She fumbled with her cell phone, "Jason, I'm going to get you some help," her voice trembled and the phone nearly slipped from her hand as she attempted to dial.

"That won't be necessary," the phone was knocked from her hand by an invisible force and Sam whirled around. A woman, dressed in a strange black robe and a rotund man similarly dressed were now standing in the room. Sam was certain they hadn't been there before.

"What the hell is going on here?" Sam stood in between Jason and the newly arrived couple. It was obvious that they had spun him some fairytale about Spinelli and she was going to do all in her power to protect the man from them as well as from himself.

"If you will calmly resume your seat, I will explain," Alma gestured toward the couch with her wand and Sam felt herself strangely tugged in its direction. She sat, but not of her own volition.

"Whatever scheme you have up your sleeve, you'd better come clean now. How dare you prey on Jason," Sam spat at the couple.

"Sam, it's alright," Jason sat next to her on the couch, "let them explain."

"But Jason," Sam turned to the man. His eyes held hers for a brief moment and she nodded, "Fine, but once this is over, you are going to see Dr. Winters."

"Fine, if you don't believe what they say, I will go see Dr. Winters," Jason promised.

Alma began the story once again, this time, however, Sam and Jason interrupted to ask questions. At the end of the absurd tale, Sam felt as though her head were spinning. The story, the magic, Spinelli's parentage, it was all unbelievable, yet Sam found herself believing what this peculiar couple was telling her. It made absolutely no sense, and yet it made perfect sense. Spinelli had always been unique. Though Maxie had never seemed particularly out of the ordinary, Sam could see how the young woman could be a witch.

"So...what's the plan?" Sam turned from Alma to Jason.

"I'm going to this magic school to get Spinelli," Jason's voice was hard, his jaw set, and his eyes smoldering with pent up frustration.

"Wait a minute Jason," Sam placed a hand on Jason's arm, keeping him in place on the couch, "if what these two have said is true, the safest place for Spinelli is at that Hogwarts place. We can't just go in and take him. What if those Death Eaters got him or if that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named creep came after him? How would you be able to protect him?"

"There is no 'we', just me," Jason shook his head, "I will do whatever it takes to keep him safe. They kidnapped him Sam, and faked his death. I need to find him, I need to see for myself that he's alright and bring him home. This is where he belongs."

"But if what they are saying is true," Sam chose her words carefully, "then it stands to reason that Spinelli is where he belonged in the first place. Jason you know how out of place he was here. How few people accepted him for who he was. How hard it was for him to fit in."

"He fit in just fine," Jason ground out.

"Really?" Sam quirked an eyebrow up and leaned back against the couch. "How many times did you have to come to his rescue? How many times did you have to keep him from Sonny's wrath? He is not of this world, Jason. I can understand that you want to see him and keep him safe, but to take him from a place where he could very well fit in better than he did here, that would be cruel and selfish. And somewhere inside that heart of yours, you know that." Sam cupped Jason's chin with her hand.

"Sam," Jason's voice took on a pleading quality, "I have to see him for myself, know he really is alive and if he is doing well there, I will walk away." It felt like his heart was being cinched, but he forced the words out.

"I'm going with you," Sam put a finger on his lips when he opened his mouth to protest, "I love Spinelli too and you can't expect me to hang around Port Charles while you head into a world possibly much more dangerous than that of the mob. I'm going with you and that's final. Besides, you need someone with a level head to cover your ass."

Alma cleared her throat, "Sorry, but…"

"Sam's coming too," Jason cut her off before she could fully voice her protest.

Nodding her head curtly, Alma looked at the couple on the couch and felt her heart softening toward the strong, young lady. It was apparent that she cared for Jason.

"We'd best get going soon," Horace looked at his watch, "our watch is nearly up."

"Okay let me cast a protective spell over them and then we will apparate to our place. We will have to set these two up with robes and make them look like they fit in the wizarding world." Alma waved her wand in the air, pointing it first at Jason and then at Sam, all the while muttering something that sounded like a song to Jason and Sam.

"That's it, Horace you take the young lady and I will apparate with Mr. Morgan."

"I think it would be best if I apparate with Mr. Morgan and you with Ms. McCall," Horace grunted and grasped the young man's arm, and before his wife could protest, he spun on the spot and they disappeared.

"That man, I'm going to kill him one of these days," Alma murmured murderously as she took Sam's arm and they spun out of sight.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Harry and Ron were still not talking and Hermione was acting as some sort of go-between. She was tired of it. Ron had something to tell Harry, but he would not speak to him directly. "Look, Ron, as much as I _enjoy_ being your personal owl, I quit. If you have something to say to Harry, tell him yourself." With a toss of her head, she stalked off leaving the two strained friends alone.

Without looking at Harry or Spinelli, Ron cleared his throat. _Why was he always with that skinny, greasy haired freak all the time anyway? Oh yeah, right, they were both in the Tri Wizard Tournament together and he was his new best friend now. It's enough to make me want to gag, still, I don't really want Harry to get hurt or die…_ "Take a walk past Hagrid's before dinner tonight," Ron grunted before pushing himself off the tree he had been leaning against and following Hermione back to the castle.

"What the hell is his problem?" Harry faced Spinelli, "He's supposed to be my best friend and now he won't even look at me."

"The Jackal is fairly certain that the currently disparaging one will come to his good senses in time and your friendship shall be amicably restored." Spinelli sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry about Maxie," Harry patted Spinelli awkwardly on the shoulder, "she'll come around too, you'll see. I think that it's all Snape's doing. He doesn't want to see one of his precious Slytherins with a 'witless' Gryffindor. I'm sure that, once she's able to, she'll slip away from Malfoy."

_Not if I have anything to say about it. That little harlot won't be sinking her vicious claws into my son._ Severus was watching the pair from behind a tree. _Just when the hell did I reduce myself to skulking behind trees?_ He shook himself slightly, but continued to watch. _What's the matter with you two? Didn't you just hear what Ron told you? If they weren't even bright enough to listen to one of their very own Gryffindor's how did they expect to survive the tournament? Go in the other direction._ He flicked his wand to emphasize his thoughts, toying with the idea of using the Imperious Curse on them.

"Do you think we should go check out Hagrid's, like Ron said?" Harry turned to Spinelli.

"It could prove to be imperative," Spinelli shrugged and the two turned around, much to Severus' well-concealed delight.

* * *

 

"You two best get under Harry's cape," Hagrid's attempt at a whisper sent spittle coursing down on the two dark-haired wizards. Harry pulled his invisibility cloak out and placed it over himself and Spinelli. The two followed Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid walked carefully, but with a springy bounce to his step. Harry wondered what had the half-giant so excited, Harry's stomach plummeted. Hagrid got excited about things which caused the average wizard or witch bodily harm. _This could be very bad for them._ His eyes widened when Hagrid stopped walking. He could hear Spinelli's breath catch in his throat. He doubted the other boy had ever seen a dragon before.

"Great," Harry groaned, "looks like we'll be facing dragons for the first event."

"How," Spinelli gulped and tried speaking once again, "how are we expected to best these gargantuan beasts?"

"Let's head back to the castle, Hermione might know something we could do or maybe Ron, if he condescends to talk to me again," Harry snorted, "will have some strategies we can use."


	24. Conquering Dragons Part I

"Ooh, dragons? I don't know Harry," Hermione had her nose in a book, but raised her head to look at the two boys who'd finally managed to track their friend down in the library.

Ron had proved to be less than helpful. He was still angry over Harry's alleged betrayal in getting his name into the goblet and was, if he were willing to admit it, a little bit jealous of Spinelli's relationship with his two best friends. He felt as though the mysterious American had honed in on his territory or something and besides, the kid was hanging out with Slytherins and had even invited one into their common room. It simply wasn't civilized Gryffindor behavior and Ron was not going to be a party to it.

_What did he care if Harry and Spinelli were burnt to a crisp by a couple of dragons? Maybe he'd go talk to Charlie, see just how dangerous the initial task would be. Maybe they wouldn't be as dangerous as they looked._ Swallowing, Ron stalked determinedly toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest where the dragons were being kept. It wouldn't hurt to find out some information and pass it onto his friend on the sly; maybe Hermione would be willing to tell Harry what he found out if he told her that night at dinner. He hoped she wouldn't think of it as cheating and if she just happened to tell that Spinelli bloke as well, well he could live with that.

* * *

"Jason Morgan," Alma Quinn puffed as she hurried to catch up to the angry young man. They'd arrived in Hogsmeade little over an hour ago and Horace had made the mistake of informing the distraught young man that they were but a few miles away from the school which housed his missing friend. Sam and Horace followed not too far behind, almost having to run to catch up to the two.

"Jason," Sam called. Hitching the awkward black robes that caught at her ankles, she hurried to catch up to the similarly clad man. It felt strange to be garbed in robes, yet Jason had taken to them like a second skin even though he had scowled at Alma's insistence that he wear them. They billowed about him in a fearsome manner as he hurried down the path.

Jason, taut with anger and determination, paused in his march and turned to grace his girlfriend with a withering look before he turned back around and resumed his quick pace in the direction Horace had indicated his friend would be located. He didn't have time for this, he had to get to Spinelli, had to get his friend back to the safety of Port Charles. He wasn't sure what emotion it was that was pulling at his heart, some sense of foreboding mixed with anger and despair as well as hope that made his feet carry him; seemingly of their own volition.

A large part of him wanted to be assured that he hadn't fallen victim to some cruel hoax. He had to see with his own eyes that what Alma and Horace had told him was true, that his friend, who'd become far closer than a brother in their all too short time together, was alive and well. He didn't care about all of the rest of what they'd said. _What did he have to do with magic or dark wizards? What did it matter that Spinelli's father had been or was still aligned with that dark wizard? What did it matter that the school he was about to storm was filled with powerful wizards and witches?_

_Crap, why the hell had he entertained Alma and Horace's fantastical lies in the first place? Magic wasn't real. Perhaps none of this was real. Maybe he'd been consigned to a nuthouse after all. Both Sonny and Sam had mentioned having him committed. Had it finally happened? Had he truly snapped and was all of this simply a fevered hallucination brought on by medications forced on a broken and sundered mind?_

"Jason!" Sam had raced to catch up with him and placed a halting hand on his shoulder. "You can't just rush off into the unknown like that. We need a plan and, without Alma and Horace's help, we won't even be able to see the place where Spinelli is being kept."

Jason was panting with the effort of holding his simmering anger and panic at bay. He didn't want to snap at Sam, even if she turned out to be just a figment of his imagination on this wild journey. She had been one of the only people to stick by him after he'd entertained the idea that Spinelli was still alive after Maxie had disappeared.

"Come on, let's come up with a plan before we go any further," Sam coaxed gently. "Spinelli won't be going anywhere. We've already come so far; a few more hours will not make that much of a difference."

Jason tightened his jaw. Even if this was some whacky fantasy and he was in some drugged state, strapped to a hospital bed in the local psych ward, he was going to go with what his gut told him and right now it was screaming at him that he needed to get to Spinelli _now_. He didn't have minutes, let alone hours to waste on developing a plan. As far as he was concerned he already had a plan in place: A. Storm the school. B. Find Spinelli. C. Get Spinelli the hell out of Dodge. Simple. If Sam and the others were not going to cooperate, he would simply do it all on his own. _Hell, for all he knew, they were just a part of the elaborate fantasy his mind had cooked up to keep him sane._

"We don't have time to waste," he spoke low and even, his voice giving away none of the mounting anxiety he felt over his friend's safety or lack thereof or of his faltering faith that everything Alma and Horace had told him was true. Hell, he didn't even know if any of this was real right now, but needed to act as though it was.

"Jason," Sam's voice was low, an even match with his, "didn't you even hear what Alma and Horace said? We won't be able to even see the school where Spinelli is without their help. Like it or not, we cannot just storm the castle and take Spinelli and Maxie, we need to come up with an actual plan and we need to wait on Alma and Horace. Without them, we won't be successful."

Jason closed his eyes in fury, "Look Sam, I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around all of this magic stuff and I…I just have a…a bad feeling about all of this. If we wait too much longer, I'm afraid we're going to lose Spinelli." _Or that I'm going to lose my mind,_ remained unspoken.

The sense of danger he felt for his friend had increased now that he wasn't moving. It was a hot churning in his gut that burned like acid and tugged at his heart. Spinelli was in danger and he was going to get to him before it was too late, his own current state of mind be damned.

He resumed his fast pace, the robes, strangely comfortable, swirled about him impressively. Oblivious to the striking vision he made as a powerful wizard on his entourage and the straggling witches and wizards they passed in their trek through Hogsmeade, he continued on his mission to rescue Spinelli.

* * *

"Hmmm...Professor Moody all but told me that I could summon my Firebolt with an accio and use it during the competition. I think that's the route I'll go, there's nothing I really excel at outside of flying," Harry spoke in a hushed whisper to Spinelli and Hermione. He was more worried about being able to summon his broom from so far away than flying, but Hermione had been optimistic and had coached him in using accio throughout the day.

They were, once again, at the library. The small table between them held about a dozen books, a couple from the restricted section which Hermione had already discarded as much too advanced for the late date of their research. Much to his and Spinelli's surprise, Hermione had also chosen a couple of books from the small Muggle section in the library insisting that, while there might not be enough information in them, some of it could be useful as it was more than likely based on myth and legends which have their basis in truth.

She had pulled out several tomes on dragons which she had parceled out to him and Spinelli to read and his eyes were practically swimming in words. He was ready to leave the library and go back to their common room before dinner. Besides, he had some homework to attend to as well, not that he could really concentrate on that what with visions of dragons dancing in his head.

"Oh Harry," Hermione speared him with a scolding look, "you excel at more than just flying." He caught Spinelli's gaze and rolled his eyes dramatically. Spinelli suppressed a grin and lowered his eyes to the book Hermione had pushed toward him. It was fascinating reading, but he hadn't found anything particularly useful. He had to do something with a real, live, fire-breathing dragon.

To the best of his recollection, he had never seen a dragon before yesterday and now he had to face one in the first event of this tournament that he hadn't even wanted to be a part of in the first place. Maybe he could simply fail the task and no longer have to participate in the dangerous game. Though, if he failed, it could also mean his death.

The book Hermione had just handed him was written in 1964 by some Muggles, Paul Newman and Tony Tallarico. It was entitled, _Puff the Magic Dragon_. It looked like a children's book, but he cracked it open nonetheless, not wanting to incur Hermione's rather formidable disapproval. It was a tale about a little boy named Jackie Paper and his imaginary friend, a dragon named Puff. Or maybe it was Puff who had the imaginary friend.

Something about the book triggered a rather fleeting memory filled with a vague, smoky headiness. He could almost smell the dense, sweet smoke from the memory of it. Shaking his head to clear it, he tried to bring the memory into sharper focus, but it slipped away, much like Jackie Paper had slipped away from Puff, the years stripping away who they were to each other. The memory fled and he blinked his eyes, anchored firmly in the present, he swallowed down the bitter anger that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he was close to recovering some of his stolen memories. It wasn't fair, but anger wouldn't do him any good, not when he had to face a dragon tomorrow afternoon.

Dragons, from what he had gathered from the previous research Hermione had led them through, were fiercely protective of their eggs and offspring and anyone who even dared to stand in the way of one or the other did not survive long. He'd be willing to bet that their competition had something to do with one or the other. And those who were foolish enough to get between a dragon and her offspring either met a fiery death or were rent asunder. Neither prospect appealed to him.

"And while that might work for you," Hermione continued, focused completely on Harry, "we still need something that will work for Spinelli. There's a reason why Dumbledore didn't allow those under sixth year to participate." Her voice held a tone of reprimand and Harry found himself wanting to retort, but before he could form the first word on his lips, Spinelli spoke.

"Hermione," his voice remained at a whisper, yet it was sharp with rebuke and the bushy-haired girl reddened at his tone, "the Jackal had thought we'd gone over this already. Neither myself nor our wholesome Gryffindor companion here entered our names into this ill-fated contest. Be we mere fourth years or the vaulted sixth or seventh, there is still the task at hand which needs be addressed."

Blinking back a sudden onslaught of tears, Hermione bit her lip and hastily looked down at the book she'd been perusing. Nodding, she suppressed her irrational emotions, why on earth should Spinelli's reproof reduce her to tears? It was ridiculous. Taking a moment to compose herself before once again looking up at the dark-haired young man who resembled Professor Snape in all save his temperament, her eyes lit upon a phrase in the book she'd all but given up on as a lost cause.

Gasping with excitement, she looked up with shining eyes and grasped Spinelli's hand. Madame Pince sent a censuring look in their direction, but Hermione was oblivious to it as the excitement over what she had found bubbled over. She had discovered something that would help Spinelli conquer the dragon so to speak.

"What is it?" Harry asked in alarm. Hermione's reaction had him worried. There were tears in her eyes and he was afraid that they would spill over and he'd have to do something along the lines of comforting her. The last time he'd attempted to comfort someone, it hadn't gone well. He was relieved to see that the tears never came and had been replaced instead by a steadily growing enthusiasm. He attempted to look at the passage she'd been reading, but she was blocking the way.

"What kind of dragons did you see?" Her voice was pitched just a little too loudly for the library, but she ignored the _shushes_ she received, not only from Madame Pince, but other library patrons. She looked expectantly at Harry who blinked at her sudden attention. Her hands were still gripping Spinelli's tightly, and she was pitched forward over the worktable, yet her eyes were locked on his. He saw that they were still sparkling with unshed tears.

"Um…" Harry gulped, trying to recall what kind of dragons Hagrid had shown to them, they'd all been pretty vicious-looking and all of his focus had been on keeping both himself and Spinelli safely concealed beneath his father's invisibility cloak. "Let's see, there was a Hungarian Horntail, a Common Welsh Green, a Swedish Short-Snout, and a…Chinese Fireball?" He turned to Spinelli for confirmation.

The other Gryffindor, eyes glued to the backs Hermione's hands, which still tightly held his own, nodded absentmindedly. Though he knew that he should probably focus on the conversation going on between his two friends, he found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the way Hermione's slender hands felt on his. He couldn't be sure, but he didn't think he'd ever felt a charge of electricity surge through him when Maximista touched him as it did now.

Hermione's grip tightened and he sucked in a breath as his heart lurched. He forced himself to look up and blinked in wonderment at how his lips twitched upward into a broad smile when he caught Hermione's eye. Had she always been this beautiful? Sparks of barely contained excitement and something that Spinelli could not identify swirled in her light brown eyes and he held his breath in wonder. He must look a fool, grinning like some overeager baboon, but he couldn't help it. Hermione made him smile, simple as that.

Hermione paused before launching into what she had discovered in her reading and her breath hitched in a manner that Spinelli found he rather liked and struck him as strangely becoming. He concentrated on the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks, unfortunately not hearing a word she said.

Concerned with Spinelli's lack of enthusiasm over what she had just shared, Hermione looked at him closely. She was suddenly aware of his unmitigated attention as he continued to stare unblinkingly at her and yet she could see that he had not taken in a single word she'd spoken. Faltering, her heart pounding until she could swear that both Harry and Spinelli could hear it, she hastily pulled away from Spinelli and looked down at her hands which still felt warm from the close, prolonged contact with the young, kind-hearted man she'd befriended.

Spinelli frowned as the contact was broken. He felt strangely bereft now that Hermione was no longer touching him and he looked down at the table, gathering his thoughts. A flash of Maximista's face seared his conscience and a cold guilt assailed him. Misery descended upon him like the cool, heartless moon on a winter's night as he realized that Hermione had awakened something within him. _Oh crap, what am I going to do now?_

His memories of Maximista were the clearest, almost the only ones that he had left of who he'd been, and he was almost certain that he loved her, though at the moment that was becoming even less clear than the smoke-filled memory inspired by _Puff the Magic Dragon_. Because, while the memories of the love he and Maxie had shared a lifetime ago were there at the back of his mind, Hermione was flesh and blood and sitting right in front of him.

"Um Spinelli?" Hermione asked in a far more subdued voice than she had previously used. Her mind was filled with self-chastisement and rebuke. Spinelli already had a girlfriend, though she did not readily approve of the Slytherin minx, she doubted that the shy Gryffindor would be interested in her of all people. She was definitely not blonde, nor was she what could be classified as beautiful. She had mousy brown hair, dratted freckles, and pasty skin. No, whatever it was that she thought she'd seen in Spinelli's green eyes, it had not been love.

"Much apologies Miss Granger," the grin which had nearly split his face earlier, had morphed into a sly, somewhat shy half-smile and Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She wanted to reach over and reclaim his hand and yet couldn't bring herself to do it. It wouldn't be right. She had fallen for him and he could not possibly return her feelings, it would be best if she maintained an air of aloofness from here on out lest her own heart be torn to shreds. She'd learned early on not to give her heart over to the boys she'd claimed as friends. Ron had proved to her that things like that just didn't work out.

"Did you hear a word I just said?" She rebuked teasingly.

Blinking, Spinelli realized belatedly that he hadn't and, grimacing, he shook his head and shrugged in a gesture of apology.

Sighing, as though put out, Hermione willed her shaky nerves to calm down before she relayed the important, possibly lifesaving, information to her now apt audience, once more, "Three of the four dragons you could possibly face can be lulled to a sleep-like state through song." Though her voice was much more subdued, the previous excitement she'd felt earlier seeped into it as she continued, "All you would need to use is the amplifying charm, sonorous, and…"she trailed off and hit herself in the head, "sing. Oh my goodness, we have only a few hours left before the tournament begins. You will need to learn how to amplify your voice and will have to find a song to sing."

Spinelli frowned. Sing? He was expected to lull a monstrous, fire-breathing dragon into submission through song? Had he ever sung in his life? What song would a dragon even be remotely interested in hearing? Crap, he was doomed.

"Sing?" Harry snorted. "What kind of song would lull a dragon to sleep?" He asked incredulously. "And which dragon would this method not work for?" He wondered if he would have to attempt the same method, why risk his Firebolt if he didn't have to?

"Um…"Hermione resumed reading the passage, her finger guiding the rapid progress of her eyes. "It says here that lullabies and tragic love ballads work best. Apparently, according to Sir Growling, the Hungarian Horntail is one of the worst tempered dragons out there and not easily subdued. Hopefully neither of you, being the youngest competitors, will be matched up with that one, though I don't know how they will determine which champion faces which dragon, it could be down to the luck of the draw… "

"How in Merlin's beard did someone figure that out?" Harry wondered aloud, his mind conjuring up images of mail-armored, sword-bearing men breaking out into song as dragons flew overhead. The picture of the leathery scaled creatures falling from the sky had him suppressing laughter. "Are you sure that book is reliable?"

"It was written by Sir Matthew Growling, one of the most renowned dragon slayers of all time." Hermione's eyes flashed angrily as she squared her shoulders, giving Harry one of her most withering looks.

Truth be told, she hadn't thought she'd be able to find anything even remotely helpful within the rather dust-covered book, but she wasn't about to give either boy cause to make fun of her or the book which held the information which could possibly help them on the coming afternoon. Of course everything within the book entitled, _All You've Ever Wanted to Know About Dragons But Didn't Even Know to Ask,_ could be utter rubbish, but she wasn't about to say that to either Harry or Spinelli. She just hoped that the advice she'd shared with them wouldn't get either of them killed.

"Lullaby and goodnight, sweet dragons take flight," Harry sang off-key in a soft voice which still caught Madame Pince's ears and earned him a look of reproach. If they weren't careful, they'd be kicked out of the library. He broke off in a fit of giggles, picturing the dragon he faced sucking one of its sharp talons like a thumb, a silly grin plastered on its fierce face as it swayed on its feet before falling with an earth quaking thud. The thought of singing a dragon to a peaceful state of mind struck him as insanely funny and he struggled to bring his fit of giggles under control.

Spinelli, on the other hand, had turned white as a sheet. "What about the fourth dragon?" He asked quietly, unsure if he would be able to sing while face-to-face with a fire-spitting monster. He also felt as though the task itself was a bit unfair, not only to him and the other participants, but to the dragons themselves. It was unkind to capture and chain up dragons who should be allowed to roam free in their natural habitats as any other animal should. It was cruel and, if he had a choice, he wouldn't put anything, dragon or otherwise, through such an ordeal.

"I haven't really found out anything truly helpful about that one," Hermione apologized. "Hopefully you will get one of the other three which can be subdued through song or, well," Hermione cleared her throat, "'…vigorous rubbing of the belly…'" she read, unable to hold back a few tittles of laughter. She couldn't imagine how anyone would be able to get close enough to rub the belly of a dragon without doing something else to subdue it first. Simply approaching one would be a death sentence. That thought sobered her up quite a bit and she glanced up apologetically as the severity of the situation caught up with her. "Maybe we ought to keep looking for some other spells that might work…"

"So," Harry looked between Hermione and Spinelli, his eyes wide with the incredulousness of it all, "if I understand this _master of dragon slaying_ , Sir Matthew Growling, correctly, all I have to do is walk up to the dragon and begin singing or reach out and rub its belly and it will become little more dangerous than an overgrown puppy dog?"

"Harry," Hermione stifled her own giggles as she scolded her classmate, "shh! We don't want to get kicked out."

"Is there any other way of making it past the dragon and completing the task?" Spinelli asked with quiet resignation.

Hermione shook her head, she'd returned to perusing the half-dozen books splayed out in front of her, "Not without knowing some of the more powerful charms and hexes which sixth and seventh years are taught and I am not sure if we would be able to master them before tomorrow afternoon." She laid a comforting hand on Spinelli's arm. He smiled half-heartedly at her before bowing his head and staring at the table.

"Sonorous is a fairly easy charm to perform," Hermione's hand lingered on Spinelli's arm, "we learned it in our second year and it is used by the announcers for Quidditch. If you haven't learned that one yet, Harry and I can teach it to you and then it is just the matter of finding a suitable lullaby or ballad and learning it. I don't think the words really matter; you could probably make them up if you forget them, I believe it is the tune which must be mastered and we have scant few hours left before the competition begins and both you and Harry should be sure to eat something and rest before bed tonight."

Spinelli sighed. He was certain he could learn the sonorous charm fairly quickly; he seemed to have a knack for magic and did well in charms. It was the singing aspect of the whole affair that had him worried. Would it matter if he was completely off-key? Or would it offend the dragon and cause him to die a quicker death? Though perhaps that would be preferable to a long, painful drawn out death. Add the fact that he couldn't even bring a single song to memory, and he was completely screwed.

As he picked up the children's book, which had not been particularly informative, even if it had triggered some mist-filled memory, Hermione gasped audibly and squealed in a very non-Hermione-like manner. She pulled the book from him and flipped through it to the very last pages. Her face was lit up in a brilliant smile as she turned the book toward him. It was opened to a page which held an image of a bright green dragon and Spinelli frowned in confusion.

"This is it!" Hermione completely ignored Madame Pince's sharp hiss as she pulled Spinelli closer so that their heads were bowed together over the book. "See, here?" Spinelli shook his head no, failing to see what she had found in the children's book which would be of any use to him against an actual fire-spewing dragon. "It's a song," Hermione's fingers trailed gingerly over the musical notes and the words accompanying them.

Spinelli's heart soared for a moment, but then sunk to the pit of his stomach as he realized that the musical notes didn't make any sense to him whatsoever. It made about as much sense to him as some of the things he'd been reading in Professor Binns' history class.

"Let's see if we can find a recording of it that will work at Hogwarts," Hermione pulled Spinelli along with her to the library's checkout. He was in a state of numb, half-awareness as Hermione obtained a copy of the recording as well as an apparatus for playing it. They returned to the table, Hermione still leading him by the hand, and aided Harry in cleaning up the books they were no longer interested in using.

"Harry, I think we should go to the common room and both you and Spinelli should learn to sing, 'Puff the Magic Dragon'." Happiness exuded from Hermione and Spinelli squeezed her hand, gaining reassurance from the returned gesture. Maybe this would work out after all and he would survive the first competition. Maybe he wouldn't completely suck at singing or maybe the dragon wouldn't care if he did. He could only hope to be so lucky.

"Sounds good," Harry stood and stretched before helping to gather the books they had strewn about the table. He was still counting on being able to summon his Firebolt, though he worried whether or not he'd really be able to do that. He'd been practicing summoning various objects throughout the day and that had met with limited success. Maybe it would be a good thing to learn "Puff the Magic Dragon" as well, a backup plan wouldn't hurt and might just save his life, that is if he didn't get stuck with the Hungarian Horntail. The way his luck went, he wasn't going to bet his life on it.

They were leaving the library just as Viktor Krum sauntered in. He eyed Hermione as she tossed her hair and snorted softly to herself, "Come on, let's get out of here before his entourage of silly giggling girls comes."

Viktor watched them as they retreated, his eyes lingered on Hermione before he took the seat she had just vacated and began reading the book he'd pulled off the shelf as he walked in, _Dragon Masters and Their Slayers_. He wished that the Hogwarts girl hadn't left; she was somewhat pretty and was one of the few girls who didn't act like a lovesick fan girl. Furthermore, she didn't goggle at him or follow after him in anyway. He liked that in a girl as most of them were falling all over themselves half the time to get his attention and was determined to get to know her better, if only she'd give him the chance.

Soon after she left, her prediction came true and Viktor found himself surround by a gaggle of giggling girls. He really should have asked Karkaroff for some headache elixir, maybe if he studiously ignored them, they'd take the hint and leave, there was a first time for everything after all. Sighing, he opened the book, stuck his nose in it, and slunk lower into his seat attempting to ignore all of his overzealous fans.


	25. Ending the Spell

"Jason!" Sam called after the man who gave no indication of slowing down. He strode forward, his considerably longer legs giving him an advantage over her, Alma and Horace. He might as well have, for all intents and purposes, been deaf. Frustrated, Sam ran a few feet to catch up with him, struggling to match him stride for stride as she panted to regain her breath.

"Jason," she tried again, "look, we have to have a plan. We can't just storm the castle." She threw her arms up exaggeratedly and shook her head as Jason merely gritted his teeth and took another more determined step forward.

"Jason, in case you've forgotten we're not witches and wizards. We won't even be able to see this Hogwarts place, let alone find Spinelli, without Alma and Horace's help." She tugged on his arm, but he tore it out of her grasp and continued on as though she didn't even exist.

He was focused solely on one goal and that was finding and removing Spinelli, as well as Maxie, from the grasp of what he fully believed to be evil witches and wizards. For what other kind would whisk the young man away from everyone and everything he knew and loved and thrust him into a place which was completely unfamiliar to him? What other kind of wizards, other than the most supremely dark ones, would make those who'd been left behind believe that the young man had died?

He couldn't stop to formulate a plan, though his mind was engineering one as he continued to walk. All he knew was that Spinelli and Maxie were not going to spend a minute longer with the witches and wizards who had orchestrated such a vile plan and had torn them from the world they knew and loved and the world which knew and loved them. Every second wasted was another second that Spinelli and Maxie were left in the hands of evil people bent on doing who knew what to them. He just hoped that he was not too late to save them.

Sam practically had to run to keep up with Jason. Alma and Horace had all but given up and decided to apparate to the gates just outside of Hogwarts, trusting that the two would arrive there shortly and unharmed. No one, not even the darkest witch or wizard, would dare to impede their strong-willed charge and his cohort. He looked far too intimidating and, if looks could kill, they believed that were He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to fall under the young man's glare; he'd be killed instantaneously as had happened to him with poor young Harry Potter.

Sam fumed silently to herself as she struggled to keep up with Jason. He was so damnably stubborn. Usually she could count on him to be at least somewhat rational, but when it came to Spinelli, he seemed to lose all sense of rationality. She knew that if what Alma and Horace had told them about Muggles being unable to see Hogwarts was true, Jason would have to stop long enough for Alma to do whatever it was she had planned on doing which would enable them to actually see the castle Spinelli and Maxie were allegedly being held in.

Now that she was actually thinking the whole thing through, she realized just how insane it all was. She'd been prepared to follow Jason wherever it was he needed to go in his quest to find Spinelli and bring him home. She'd even go so far as to storm the gates of hell were it proven to be necessary and yet, now that they were there, virtually speaking, she suddenly wished that she'd taken some time to think it all through before hastily offering to join Jason on this trip to the deepest realm of madness.

Sam was so lost in her thoughts, that she didn't realize Jason had stopped in his tracks until she'd crashed into him and went sprawling on the dirt road. Dusting herself off, she glared at Jason who was staring at a wrought iron gate. Or at least that is what she assumed he was staring at, for beyond the gate lay nothing but ruins of what Sam assumed must have been a grand castle once upon a time.

The place was entirely desolate and Sam's heart dropped. Had Jason's intuition been right? Had she inadvertently kept him from being able to save Spinelli and Maxie in her insistence that he slow down? Were they, along with who knew how many others, buried beneath the rock and rubble that stretched as far as her eyes could see?

Touching his arm gently, tears springing to her eyes, her voice choked out the words, "I'm…so…sorry…Jason."

He turned to look at her, his eyes puzzled at her words. "Wha…"

"Oh deary," Alma rushed over to her, "I forgot that you wouldn't be able see it." She shook her head in self-remonstration. Horace rolled his eyes, tapping his wand against the palm of his hand.

"What do you mean?" Sam looked from the matronly woman to Jason to Horace.

"Tell me, what do you see?" Alma asked in curiosity. She'd always heard from Albus Dumbledore that Muggles couldn't see the castle were they to stumble upon it by accident, but had no idea what it was that they actually saw.

"There…there's nothing but a pile of stones beyond this broken gate," Sam answered incredulously. She refused to believe that what she saw with her own two eyes was not the reality, no matter the looks of pity mixed with deep interest that Horace and Alma, and even Jason were casting at her.

"What are you talking about?" Jason stared at her fixedly before turning once again to look at the ruins beyond the dilapidated gate. He turned back to stare at her questioningly as though doubting her sanity.

Alma tore her conciliatory gaze from Sam to Jason. She watched the younger man with an appraising look, hands on her hips. "And what do you see?" She directed her question at Jason who looked nervously between her and Sam.

What was it he was supposed to see? He wondered. His heart hammered in his chest as he turned to face the impressive iron gate which housed the first castle he'd ever set eyes upon. It was constructed entirely of stone and had spires which rose high up into the air, almost up into the clouds. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, hoping that when he opened them he'd see what it was he was supposed to be seeing rather than what he was now sure was some hallucination if he was gauging the looks being launched in his direction correctly.

Swallowing hard, throat suddenly dry, he opened his eyes only to find that the castle had not vanished. It was there, shimmering magnificently in the bright sun. If anything, it was coming into greater focus and he felt a tugging in his heart, as though the castle were calling to him. Shaking his head, he turned back to Alma and Sam.

"I see a castle," he replied. His heart, being comforted by some strange assurance which seemed to come from the castle, thrummed with something he could not yet define but trusted he would be able to in time.

Alma's jaw dropped and Sam looked at him with disbelief. Horace smiled amicably and patted him on the shoulder. "That's a lad," his voice was laced with pride as he nodded, clapping Jason on the back.

"But," Alma blinked, "that…that's not possible…unless – " she turned a fierce glower on her husband, wagging her finger, "Horace," she chastised, "you devil you." Her eyes glittered angrily.

"What?" Horace stepped back, holding his hands out in a gesture meant to mollify his wife, but which seemed to make her even angrier as she advanced on him.

"Take the charm off of him this instant!" Alma rounded on her husband. She'd not been this angry with her husband since they'd left Port Charles anyway.

"What charm?" Horace backed away from his wife until his back was flush against the gates keeping them from the grounds of Hogwarts.

"The one enabling Jason to see the castle," Alma enunciated each word carefully. Though her voice was quite soft, it held a note to it which Horace had come to fear over the years.

"Alma darling," his voice trembled slightly. He did not trust his wife not to hex him on the spot, regardless of the witnesses present. "I assure you that I have not charmed the young man." He willed his wife to believe him.

Truth was that he was just as floored as she was that Jason could see the castle. The only way he'd be able to do that was through the charm his wife was indicating, unless of course, the man was a wizard. He hadn't cast the charm and, judging by the way his wife was acting, she hadn't either. That meant that Jason Morgan was a wizard.

"I guess there is just one thing left for me to do since you are intent upon carrying out this fabrication." His wife's eyes held a dangerous gleam to them. Her lips were pierced into a grim line and Horace feared that the hex he'd worried about was already upon them.

He squinted and cringed before the formidable woman, recalling that one of the reasons he'd been attracted to her had been because of the fierce way in which she'd defended those who were weak and needy. As a matter of fact that was how they'd initially met, one of her classmates, a Millicent Brady, had been surrounded by a group of boys who were teasing her mercilessly.

Alma, only a second year at the time, had marched up to them and, in a fury of carefully volleyed hexes and counter-curses, had sent each and every one of them, in spite of their differences in age, fleeing. Horace hadn't been one of the malicious boys, he'd been merely a bystander, but had been awed by the younger student's prowess and her sense of fairness and had stealthily enquired of her.

She was a Slytherin, in spite of her sense of fair play and the obvious courage she displayed, which should have marked her as a Gryffindor. The sorting hat might have placed her there because of her family's affluence, he suspected that at times it did play to politics in spite of the assurance of each Headmaster that it did not.

He too had a sense of fair play, placing him in the Hufflepuff house. Every family member before him had ended up there as well, however, solidifying his belief that the hat did not necessarily place everyone where he or she should in reality be placed. Blood ties were often the determining factor rather than what was in a child's heart.

Though he was two years her senior, he eventually garnered the courage and approached her family with the intent to court her. Though her family was not happy about the union, they married a few years after she'd graduated from Hogwarts. Sometimes he wondered if it wasn't her Slytherin background which had determined the fate of their son, making it easier for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to lure him to his side. But then, when he saw his wife in her element, like this, even if her anger was currently directed at him, he came to his senses and realized that neither of them was at fault for their son's indiscretions.

Closing his eyes as he awaited the coming hex, steeling himself for the pain which would be forthcoming regardless of his innocence as his wife would not believe him no matter what he said in his defense. He too could not believe Jason Morgan could see, through his own uncharmed eyes, Hogwarts grounds and castle.

How could the man be a wizard? He had all of the hallmarks of a Muggle. Unless he had been stripped of his magic at an early age. But then, how had it been released? Was the magic surrounding Hogwarts that powerful that it could unlock magic within someone who had never displayed magical properties before?

He bravely cracked an eyelid open when the words, "Finite Incantum," issued from his wife's mouth rather than those of the stinging hex.

Her wand was pointed steadfastly at Jason who was eyeing her with something akin to horror as the magic hit him and he stumbled. The robes he wore swirled around him though there was no wind. His breathing became hitched and the young man was lit up with some mystical light which burned bright as the sun and retracted back within him almost as quickly as it had gone out from him. An implosion of power gathered and burst out of him, causing the grass surrounding them to flatten and all four of them to lose their footing.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Jason demanded as he stood shakily.

Alma simply blinked back at him. She was completely flabbergasted. She'd been certain that Horace had played a joke on her, albeit a rather cruel one as it would cause Jason to question his sanity, though she knew that he would not have even considered that. He would never have done something to harm the younger man and she was at once ashamed for having thought that Horace would have done something like that, prankster though he was.

"Tell me what you see," Alma answered instead. The desperation in her voice caused Jason to pause in his forward advance on the motherly witch.

Once more he turned toward the gate and peered through it. The castle was etched in relief against the blue, cloud-bedecked sky. It was enormous and his heart longed to go through the gate and explore the depths of it. He felt instantly at home and yet his rational mind reminded him that there was no such thing as magic that everything he was seeing was little more than a manipulation of reality.

"What did you do to me?" He demanded instead.

"Nothing," Alma started, but then decided upon the truth as his unearthly blue eyes penetrated hers. She gulped, wondering irrationally if he could read her very thoughts and intuit her true intentions. "That is, I used a charm which would remove any charm used on you. It is called Finite Incantum and it erases any magic used on someone, revealing the truth in some cases. In this case, I simply wanted to prove that Horace had already cast the charm on you which would allow a Muggle to see and thus traverse the magically hidden castle. Tell me, do you see it still?"

Jason nodded grimly. His heart dropped as he realized the implications of what Alma was saying. Horace had not charmed him to see the castle. Sam could not see it, if the furtive looks she was giving him were any indication. Only he, Horace and Alma could see the castle. Only wizards and witches could see the castle as it was hidden from people who were _normal_. He was a wizard. His whole life prior to this moment had been a lie.

_I am a wizard_. The words sunk in, though he refused to believe them. He couldn't be a wizard. It was ridiculous. All of this was nothing but a figment of his imagination. He was at Shady Brook. That was the only explanation that made any sense. The only one with any basis in the reality he had known and could trust wholeheartedly.

He closed his eyes, shutting them tight against the mirage of the castle before him and closing them to the delusion of Horace and Alma. He had to get better. Was Sam there visiting him or was she too part of this illusion? Had Spinelli really disappeared or was he at the penthouse waiting for Jason to return once he'd been cured of this lunacy?

"Jason?" Sam's hand was on his arm, warm and reassuring. He opened his eyes, fully expecting to see white walls surrounding him rather than a cheerful, green forest.

"Tell me this isn't real," he begged. His eyes took in the sight of Sam dressed in black robes and, looking down, he saw that he was similarly clad.

The desperation in Jason's voice clawed at Sam's heart. She too was having a hard time coming to grips with the idea that there was magic in the world, but to have her reality shattered as Jason's had been would be a terrible blow. Everything he'd believed to be true about himself and the world had been irrevocably destroyed with the revelation that he could see what people who did not have magic could not rightfully see.

He was a wizard, had been a wizard all of his life and had been unaware of it. Maybe that was the reason he'd been able to escape death on so many occasions. Perhaps that is why he seemed to heal rapidly, without the aid of medicine or a lengthy stay in the hospital. As she recalled several occasions in which his life had been in danger, it became clearer to her that something beyond her ken had been protecting Jason all of these years: magic.

"Jason," Sam smiled warmly at him. In order to help him come to terms with this, she had to be calm, encouraging. "All of this is real. You are not at Shady Brook. I think that," she bit her lip, searching her mind for the right words to assuage Jason; "I think that you have magic within you. When Alma said that spell it was like you were transformed in some way and yet…"she couldn't fully explain what she'd felt when Jason's magic had been released. "And yet, it is like you, the real you, has finally been released. The you who was meant to be all along."

She knew that it didn't make much sense, but couldn't really put into words the sense of peace and power which had flooded her when that all-consuming light had emanated forth from Jason only to be pulled back into him. Words were not adequate enough to express what had happened and never would be.

For a moment she was engulfed with jealousy, wishing that she too were magical, that she could share in what Jason, Alma and Horace had. But as quick as the thought came, she brushed it away, she was who and what she was meant to be. Though she did not possess magic, she was strong and capable and nothing would keep her from standing at Jason's side. She too could and would fight alongside Jason for Spinelli and Maxie, magic be damned if it got in her way.

"But…" Jason sputtered.

Sam cupped his cheek in her hand and gazed into his eyes, noting that somehow they were even bluer than they'd ever been. "This is real Jason," she assured him.

Their eyes locked and she felt a pull behind her belly and at her mind, as though Jason were searching her very heart, sifting through the thoughts in her mind. Her breath caught in her throat and a guttural moan escaped her as an intimacy hitherto unknown to the both of them seemed to crush her. As soon as it had begun it ended and Sam felt bereft. A heavy depression overcame her and she fell against Jason.

"How?" Jason whispered, clutching at Sam's sagging form.

He'd seen the truth of it all when he'd gazed into Sam's warm, brown eyes. He'd seen himself as Sam had seen him for countless months after Spinelli's disappearance, how he'd given himself over to the bottle. He'd felt her desperation and sorrow as her attempts to pull him out of himself failed time and time again and yet she hadn't given up on him. He wondered at that. He'd felt her love and it leveled him in its intensity.

He sorted through her thoughts, not quite understanding what exactly he was doing, but needing to see reality through someone's eyes other than his own. Needing to verify that what he was experiencing was real and not some horrifying nightmare sparked by months of inebriation.

If Sam's memory were to be believed, if what she'd seen as it played out in their connected minds was in fact the truth, then he truly was not currently in convalescence at Shady Brook and was standing in front of the castle which held his friend, no brother, captive. He hadn't meant to pull out of her mind so abruptly and felt a keen loss as he did so, yet he felt once again an urge to move forward, to find and rescue Spinelli before grievous harm befell him.

* * *

"Spinelli," Hermione bit her bottom lip as she watched the young man pore over the song book. He'd mastered the Sonorous charm easily, as she'd known he would, and was now intently focused on memorizing the song made famous by Peter, Paul and Mary.

Something about the way he brooded over the book reminded her of the Potions Master and, in her gut, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Spinelli was the one she'd heard whispered about by the Slytherins. The son of a well-known and trusted Death Eater. The one who was being searched far and wide for by loyal followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The one whom Voldemort wished to be brought to him, to become, in his own right, a leader at the dark wizard's side, never mind the fact that Voldemort had yet to be fully resurrected.

She'd been watching the both of them, Spinelli and Professor Snape, since the beginning of the school year and had put the pieces together. They both shared similar looks and she could no longer deny that, when Spinelli was focused on something with great intensity, that it reminded her of her professor.

She didn't wish to believe the worst about her professor, as Harry and Ron were wont to do, but facts could not be denied. What she'd seen with her own eyes and heard with her own ears could not be repudiated. Spinelli was the son of Severus Snape, renowned Professor of Potions at Hogwarts, and possibly, more than likely, former Death Eater and follower of Voldemort.

She refused to believe that the man was still an acolyte to the dark wizard, trusting that Professor Dumbledore, for all of his faults, would not hire someone who was a practicing Death Eater to teach his students. Suddenly all of the 'proof' that Harry and Ron had gathered over the years pointing to the professor being a dark wizard swirled around in her mind.

She pushed all of those thoughts aside and focused on what she knew that though he might have been a follower of the darkest wizard of their time, Professor Snape was now aligned with Professor Dumbledore. She trusted Dumbledore's judgment implicitly; he'd given her no reason not to. Additionally, she believed that Professor Snape, nasty as he was to Harry Potter and Gryffindors in general, was not evil. He had saved Harry's life on a number of occasions and seemed to have their best interests at heart. Other professors favored their own houses as well.

She didn't know if she should broach the subject with Spinelli or not, yet she felt that it was important to do so before the tournament began. Maybe, if he knew that he had a father and who his father was, it would give him courage to face the dragon and the other obstacles he'd be sure to encounter through the course of the ridiculous game.

"Am I doing it wrong?" Spinelli looked up at her anxiously. He'd been humming the tune to himself and, as he didn't truly know how to read notes, at least he didn't think he did, was worried that he'd sounded truly awful.

"What?" Hermione, pulled out of her deep thoughts was momentarily at a loss as to what Spinelli was asking her.

"My singing, am I doing it wrong?" The desperate look he shot in her direction made her heart flutter and she blinked before remembering what it was she'd wanted to tell him.

She shook her head, "Oh no, you're doing just fine," she reassured him. As a matter of fact, his voice stirred her heart with an excitement which caused her to flush red.

"Oh," he blushed and looked away. He didn't understand what it was that caused his heart to shift in his chest when Hermione smiled at him or when her face reddened or when she simply caught his eye at dinner. It was different than how he'd felt with Maxie. She caused his heart to race and his mind to falter and yet, Hermione, with her frizzy hair and timid ways, stirred him in a way that Maxie didn't.

"Um, I just wondered," now that she had begun, she didn't know how to continue. How should she phrase this? "Do you know who your father is?" She asked all in one breath.

"Huh?" Spinelli eyed her curiously. Of all of the things he'd thought she might ask him, that had not once popped in his mind and he was momentarily at a loss for words.

He'd not really given it much thought. First, his mind had been consumed with the knowledge that he was a wizard and then he spent months in grueling training and now, he was about to face a dragon. This thought truly had not crossed his mind and he wondered that it had been on Hermione's mind.

"Do you know, you know, who your parents are?" Hermione's face felt flush and she looked down at her hands. She felt a fool.

Spinelli frowned in thought. He wracked his mind, certain that the identity of his parents would be forthcoming and yet, his mind remained a blank save for what he'd been told over the summer, as if in a dream, that his father was evil somehow. He couldn't quite remember the exact words, but that was at the forefront of his mind. What had he been told of his mother? He couldn't quite remember that either.

A name came to him suddenly, Kathy, and yet he had no picture of the woman, no young lady, to go with the memory of the name. What he had instead was a vision of a grim-looking Professor Snape seated in some odd, pink-colored room, surrounded by strange contraptions, telling him about his mother and father in a dispassionate manner.

"I…I think Professor Snape mentioned them to me this summer, but I'm not sure," he hesitated to answer, not sure he could fully trust his memory. He knew that it had been altered, seemingly irrevocably, in some manner. The only thing he had been certain of had been his love for Maxie and even that he was beginning to question.

"I'm not sure if I should even say anything then," Hermione looked away, nervously biting her bottom lip and rubbing her hands together.

"What pray-tell is it that the ever-mindful, rational Hermione wishes to tell the Jackal?" Where had that moniker come from?

"Jackal?" Hermione questioned, looking into Spinelli's green eyes, finding a measure of comfort within their depths, giving her the courage to finish what she'd begun.

"I believe, that is, I'm not sure, but I believe that is one of my self-designations from my former life," Spinelli gave Hermione a half-smile, bolstering her even more.

"Spinelli, I have been watching you and Professor Snape," she began, feeling supremely foolish as she realized that her words more than likely sounded like the ramblings of an unstable stalker at best.

"That is," she started again, "I couldn't help but notice that there are a number of similarities between you and the professor. I think," she looked away, sighing in frustration, grateful that the common room was empty of all save her and Spinelli.

"I think that Professor Snape is your father," she blurted out, covering her mouth at once with a shaking hand at the hard look Spinelli turned on her.

"Professor Snape?" He mouthed the words. Memories of his summer training and of how the professor had been nothing but diffident toward him overpowered him and he stood unsteadily.

Anger overtook him, such as he hadn't felt in as long as he could remember and before he knew it he was out of the Gryffindor common room and halfway down the corridor to the dungeons before he came face-to-face with the man in question. He was unaware that Hermione had trailed behind him.

"Are you my father?" He jabbed a finger in the man's face.

Severus blinked back at him in surprise before he schooled his face once more into impassivity. He shook his head in the negative, sneering at him and at the witch standing slightly behind him.

"Just tell me the truth; I've got a right to know!" The young teen's face was twisted and flushed red with anger. He'd lived with this man for almost the entire summer and yet, he'd given no indication of a familial relationship with him whatsoever. He felt lied to and betrayed and worse yet, unwanted and unloved. Was he really that bad that his own father couldn't find it in his heart to love him? That the man who was also his teacher didn't deem him worthy of being called his son?

"No, Mr. Spinelli, I'm not your father," the Professor's silky voice gave no hint of the inner turmoil his son's question had sparked. Grimacing, he turned his face away from the pair of students. His hands formed into white-knuckled fists at his side and he clenched his teeth until his jaw cracked under the strain.

_Damn that know-it-all witch, if she hadn't figured it out, my son would never have sought to question me._ He'd have to talk to her privately and explain to her that, under no uncertain circumstances, was she ever to repeat what she'd discovered to anyone, including his son. No one could know that the teary-eyed young man standing tight-lipped before him was his son. If anyone found out, his life would be forfeit and he wasn't going to lose his son to some fanatical megalomaniac bent on ruling the world.

"Just who gave you that preposterous idea?" He turned back and sneered at the students, turning a steely, accusatory eye on Hermione. Spinelli flinched at his tone and Severus' heart lurched painfully in his chest. It was better to hurt the young man now and turn him against him than to lose him to the Dark Lord forever, however, so he glared at the both of them until they quailed and looked away.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he whispered maliciously, "for such a preposterous claim. As if I would have a _son_ placed in Gryffindor. I'd rather have spawned a Squib than the likes of you." His words had cut deep. His son's eyes slipped from his face and the boy turned aside to hide his tears.

Severus' eyes bore into the top of Hermione's bowed head. "Detention with me tonight at seven sharp Miss Granger," Severus hissed, "don't be late. And as for you, Master Spinelli, don't you have a tournament to prepare for?" Spinelli jerked as though he'd been slapped and Severus cringed inwardly.

Turning on his heel, his robes billowed impressively, though neither Spinelli nor Hermione watched him leave. His insides quaked in fear for his son. Had he been aware of the shadowed figure, the only other witness to the debacle which had taken place in such close proximity to his quarters, he'd have whisked his son away to the nether regions.

A dark chuckle rebounded around the distraught couple and they looked at each other. Looks of fear mirrored in their glistening eyes as they simultaneously held a breath and listened for the source of the noise. They glanced around the darkened corridor for the source of the soul-penetrating laughter devoid of humor, but discovered no one.

Shivering, they cast a furtive look into the recesses of the shadows before gathering their robes about themselves and hastening to return to the safety of their quarters. Spinelli was now convinced that Professor Snape was indeed his father, in spite of the man's protestations to the contrary. Hermione, worried about what the detention with Professor Snape would entail, pulled her thoughts together. She would need all of her wits about herself when she faced the angered professor for her detention.

In the meantime though, Spinelli had a dragon to face and she was determined that he would not only face the dragon, but prevail in overcoming it. Grasping Spinelli's hand, she dragged him the remaining feet to the portrait of the Fat Lady and whispered the password. The malevolent laughter echoing in her mind, making her act with greater caution, she ushered Spinelli in before entering herself. A breeze as of someone brushing past caused the hairs on the back of her neck to raise and bristle.

* * *

 


	26. Lulling Dragons to Sleep (Conquering One's Dragons, Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events contained within this story are not in keeping with the timelines established within the worlds of Harry Potter and "General Hospital." Taking liberties with description of the dragons and a great deal of other things as well.

"How do we get past this gate?" Jason suspended his disbelief. His mind, unable to wrap itself fully around the explanation which Alma and Sam had given him, in spite of having shared something of Sam when he'd looked into her eyes, was content simply to continue on with the charade until it should prove itself to be otherwise and he woke to find himself in the confines of the padded walls of Shady Brook.

"We need to call someone from Hogwarts to let us in," Alma knew that her answer was not going to placate Jason.

"And how do we do that?" Jason was looking at the formidable gate standing in front of him, figuring out how he could get around it, whether he could simply climb to the top of it and swing himself over to the other side.

"It's protected by magic," Horace was watching the young man and his lips quirked upward as he realized what he had planned. "You won't be able to climb over it to get to the other side, nor squeeze through it. It's been designed to protect the school and thus the students housed within from such mendacious breeches," he explained good-naturedly. "You know from dark wizards and the like."

Jason gave him a scathing look. He didn't like the thought of dark wizards and the like, whatever that meant, attempting to storm the castle which held, not only Spinelli, but young, innocent children within it. The audacity of it gripped his heart in a vice and he continued to study the gate for any opening which would cause the castle to be unsafely guarded. If there was any way in which the gate could be trespassed, he was going to find it and give hell to whoever had deemed it worthy of protection.

Now that it was revealed that he hadn't placed a charm on Jason, Horace was warming up, readily, to the idea that the man he and his wife had watched over for the past several months was a wizard. It suited him, truth told, better than a bottle of whisky and heavy brooding had. Though he hadn't liked the man much, seeing him in this element had thoroughly convinced him that his wife had been a right judge of his character. He hadn't wanted to see it because of her incessant comparison of the volatile man to their lost son.

Now that he'd had more time to get to know him and had seen him dressed as a wizard, he'd become reconciled to the fact that Jason was all of the things his wife had said he was. He was a man of his word, trustworthy, of solid convictions, and, as a wizard, a force to be reckoned with. He could certainly give Albus a run for his money if what had happened when his wife broke the spell on him was anything to judge by.

He wondered what kind of wand Jason would take to and had half a mind to transport the young man to Diagon Alley to have him fit for one right away. He would have done so posthaste had he not feared the man would turn the wand on him in an instant for retribution. Jason had but one aim and that was to rescue his hapless friend from whom he believed were fiends. No amount of words to the contrary were bound to convince him otherwise, so Horace was reconciled that he could do nothing else other than help him in achieving his single, solitary goal.

Maybe afterwards, they could make a trip to Olivander's and have Jason properly wanded. The wizard would need to be properly armed at some point in time. He would be unable to deny it if he convinced the young man that it was the only way to protect his friend. He would just have to approach him in the right manner; maybe he could sway his wife to help him. Surely she would see the necessity of it and would be unable to argue against it, especially as it had been her rashly incanted Finite Incantum which had irrevocably revealed the truth and thrust the young man irreversibly into the realm of magic.

Spinelli and Harry shared a twin look of trepidation as they listened to Ludo Bagman explain the task to them, how they'd have to snatch a golden egg from their respective dragon and how points would be awarded for finesse among other things. Both boys stopped paying attention to the game master's words and instead stared at the small purple pouch he held within his hand. Tiny models of the dragon they'd be facing were housed within it. Turn-by-turn, each 'champion' would plunge his or her hand into the small pouch and retrieve the miniscule model of the dragon they'd soon be facing in earnest.

They'd known they would be facing dragons, thanks to Hagrid, but now that they were about to face the winged, fire-breathing creatures, they were feeling a little purple. Spinelli's throat closed up and he swallowed hard, fighting for air. If this kept up, there was no way he'd be able to utter the charm which would amplify his voice let alone sing the song which he'd memorized scant hours prior under Hermione's tutelage.

A flash of white caught his attention and his eyes were drawn to a slight opening in the tent. A blonde head bobbed under the flap, followed by one crowned in brown, bushy-hair. Both girls surreptitiously caught his and Harry's attention, the blonde one scowling at the brown haired girl crowding the limited space. Both jockeyed for position and came to a silent truce when the Headmaster's sparkling blue eyes came to rest upon them. He smiled slightly and put a silencing finger to his lips. Both girls stilled and, under the Headmaster's remonstrative look, clasped hands, helping each other maintain their shaky footing.

They gave Spinelli and Harry shaky smiles, Maxie giving Spinelli a thumbs up, Hermione gesturing pointedly to her throat. Harry, feeling mad as a loon, caught himself returning their nervous smiles with a lopsided grin of his own. He was so on edge that he couldn't stop from shaking as he placed his hand into the purple pouch and pulled out the miniature version of the full-grown dragon he'd be facing. _Crap, it's the Hungarian Horntail, the most dangerous of the lot._

Somehow Ludo Bagman's overly cheerful enthusiasm and pat on the back seemed forced, especially after he'd taken in the wide-eyed look of apprehension which had briefly crossed the man's visage before he'd almost haphazardly schooled it into the crimped one he now sported as a camera flash all but blinded him. Though he supposed that he should have been prepared for the presence of the wizarding press, he wasn't quite prepared for the keen interest the reporters seemed to take in both himself and Spinelli. He knew that his so-called fame had something to do with it as did Spinelli's unknown background, probably even more so than the fact that they were the youngest champions and both from Hogwarts.

He'd seen the stories printed, Hermione had insisted that he read them so that he could be fully prepared to face the press and give accurate statements to both classmates as well as fans. Some of what had been printed had rankled him, especially the stories written by Rita Skeeter who'd managed to corner him a few days ago. Her story painted a pathetic picture of him as a thrill-seeking orphan out to prove himself to the wizarding world because he'd grown up with a Muggle family. It was a complete and utter fabrication built on twisted truths.

Spinelli had fared no better. She'd poignantly depicted him as a lonely, misunderstood and somewhat deranged wannabe Death Eater, trying to prove himself to his heretofore unidentified parent. She'd done a superb job of creating the illusion that Spinelli and Harry were closet-enemies and had even gone so far as to insinuate that Spinelli had used Dark Arts to insert his and Harry's names into the Goblet as a pitiable bid to prove his worth to the Death Eater community at large by killing his father's master's nemesis.

It wouldn't have been all that bad, both Spinelli and Harry knew she'd spun nothing but lies, if their fellow classmates and the wizarding community had not seemed to hang off of every libelous word that was printed about them. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been approached by a fellow student and questioned about his connection to the Death Eaters as well as the Dark Lord himself this past week. It had gotten to be, quite frankly, ridiculous and was an even greater pain in the ass than the previous headlines speculating on his parentage and his mysterious debut into the wizarding world.

He didn't know how Harry had managed to handle it for all of these years. Hermione had shown him past issues of _The Daily Prophet_ for the last four years and it was a bit disconcerting how much unwanted press Harry had gotten over the simple fact that he had lived when a powerful wizard had tried, yet failed, to kill him.

He started slightly when the purple pouch was thrust in his direction and Professor Snape called out his name as though he'd been attempting to gain his attention for quite some time now. He blushed in embarrassment and thrust his hand into the pouch, flinching imperceptibly when the mini-dragon bit his finger with tiny, yet razor sharp teeth, causing blood to bead up and pool on the pad of his index finger.

He drew his finger into his mouth and blinked rapidly when several bright flashes of light nearly blinded him. Ludo Bagman clapped him soundly on the shoulder, informing him that he'd be the first champion to compete.

"Spinelli here, the young upstart, has drawn the Swedish Short-Snout. A rather fetching dragon. Really, you couldn't ask for a better draw." Ludo beamed at the photographer, pulling a dazed Spinelli into an impromptu embrace.

Seconds later, the enigmatic man had drawn Harry into a half hug on the other side and all three were captured in a magical photo. Spinelli's injured finger was still in his mouth; his green eyes were wide in shock and embarrassment. Harry was grimacing as his own mini-dragon spit fire at him and his eyes held a dazed look to them.

Before Spinelli knew what was going on, he was thrust into a small booth with Rita Skeeter. He'd finally managed to pull his bleeding finger from his mouth and was seated awkwardly close to the intrepid reporter.

"How do you feel knowing that you, one of the youngest champions involved in this deadly competition, second only to Harry Potter, will be the first to compete?" Rita licked the tip of her quill and set it in the air where it began to write as she manipulated it with little, minutely discernible jerks of her wand.

Spinelli caught a few hastily scribbled words: 'doomed', 'certain death', and 'tragic impending demise' searing themselves on the forefront of his mind, before Rita physically turned his head until his eyes were caught up by her own earnest brown ones.

"Uh," he stammered incoherently. What had she asked him again? And what did she mean by first? Was he really going to have to be the first to face one of the dragons? He felt like he was suffocating and his vision swam. Did he see the words, 'terrified beyond words', scrawled in poisonous green lettering on the magically floating scroll?

Suddenly, a skinny, freckled arm reached into the stifling, enclosed space and drew him out. He let out a relieved breath when he recognized Hermione and Maxie. Each gave him a brief hug, the latter kissing him quickly on the cheek before releasing him and being ushered out of the tent by the Headmaster. Flashes accompanied each harried movement and Spinelli knew without the shadow of a doubt that a new headline and photos would be gracing the cover of the next _Daily Prophet_. He wondered dazedly if it would read something like: "Mysterious Son of a Death Eater and His Harem of Hotties" or something else equally scandalous.

He glanced in Harry's direction and saw the selfsame look of ill-disguised panic mirrored in the other boy's eyes. His tiny dragon was now flying lazy loop-de-loops around his head and Spinelli's was yawning contentedly in the sweaty palm of his hand. Oddly enough it didn't seem to mind how tightly he'd clasped it. He hurriedly stuffed it into the pocket of his robes and wiped his sweaty palms on the cool, black fabric. In a failed attempt to steady his nerves, he grasped his wand and muttered the sonorous charm beneath his breath as he mentally prepared himself to face a real, live dragon, hoping that Hermione was right and that singing would calm the dragon.

Before he knew what was happening he was shoved forward. His feet, firmly planted on the ground within the tent, scrambled to keep up with the rest of his body as he was unceremoniously thrust into the arena where he came to a skittering halt face to snout with a rather pissed-off looking charcoal grey, scaled dragon. Gulping he scrabbled backward in a crabwalk, wincing at the bruising on his knees that the shove had caused when he'd fallen into the arena.

The dragon, its nostrils flaring dramatically as it drew nearer to him and sniffed, had a wild, incensed look in its glittering, cobalt eyes. As it breathed out, a puff of air, hot as a blazing furnace, ruffled Spinelli's hair. The dragon's breath itself reeked of sulfur and brimstone.

She eyed him curiously and Spinelli was momentarily frozen in place as a single gleaming, black-jeweled eye narrowed at him from mere inches away. She appeared to be assessing him and, if the ensuing snort was anything to go by, found him to be nothing more than a nuisance.

He swallowed the bile which had surged up from his stomach, why had he listened to Hermione this afternoon? It would have been much better for him to face his death on an empty stomach. His eyes searched the arena, a detached portion of his mind admiring the realistic rocky lair that had no doubt been set up using magic, as he looked for the golden egg he was supposed to retrieve from a nest of dragon eggs.

Carefully, he inclined his head to the right, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior of the magical lair as he continued to search out the golden egg. He was all too aware of the dragon that was still watching him warily. She was now inching nearer. Her left nostril, big enough to accommodate his head, fluttered as she continued to judge him by his scent. He knew that he must reek of nothing but raw fear and wondered if fear was tantalizing or off-putting to dragons. Either way, he was probably toast. Burnt toast, that is.

Just as he was ready to give up his search for the proverbial golden egg, he spied it in a nest perched precariously on an outcropping of rock. Eyeing the distance from where he was sprawled beneath the inquisitive nose of the she-dragon, he realized that, should he manage to escape the scrutiny of his rival, he would have to forge through a mile of rocky territory to make it to the egg.

What was that spell that Harry was planning on utilizing for his own match? Something which would summon his broom, maybe he'd be able to use that to summon the egg…provided that he could extricate himself from the dragon before she dined on him.

Her tentative exploration of him took an abrupt and distinctive turn toward aggressive and Spinelli quickly gathered his wits about himself. Once more, she narrowed a glittering eye at him; her mouth broke out into something akin to a grisly smile which revealed long, shapely teeth, pointed in sharpness.

Numbness stalled him as she pulled away and stood to her full height, unfurling her impressive wings. Temporarily mesmerized by her majesty, Spinelli blinked stupidly up at the massive dragon before him. What was it he was supposed to do again? He shook his head to clear it and the previously ignored crowd of spectators surrounding him came into crystal clarity.

Though he couldn't quite make out what it was that they were saying, he felt the wordless chant reverberate through his bones, mobilizing him to pick himself up off the ground and come to a quivering stand beneath the colossal beast which had now begun roaring. He grit his teeth and barely managed to keep from covering his ears with his hands as the dragon shrieked.

A blast of magma-hot air filled the stadium and the spectators, as a whole, held their breath in dreaded expectation of Spinelli's impending demise as orange flames flickered forth from the mouth of the enraged beast. The breath of fire dripped molten rock and Spinelli was shocked out of his stupor as he dodged the dripping volcanic-like substance and sought higher ground. It seemed he was being drawn inexorably, as though it were completely out of his control, toward the nest which cradled the eggs. Bringing him nearer and nearer into the danger zone.

His wand remained forgotten, yet firmly fisted in his hand as he swerved and dove, hiding behind an outcropping of rock here and there as he wove his way ever upward and the dragon dogged his every step. The frantic hammering of his heart drowned out the vigorously renewed sound of chanting and, though he still could not make out the words of the chant, he gained courage from the fact that there were hundreds, if not thousands of people supporting him. Or at least he hoped they were offering cries of support and not vocalizing his imminent demise.

"What in Merlin's name is all that commotion?" Alma's voice held a cranky edge to it that caused Horace to grimace in dreaded anticipation of a very unpleasant afternoon. It was bad enough that they'd discovered that one of their charges was a wizard, unbeknownst to himself, now he had to contend with his sweet wife in a temper.

After performing the necessary enlightenment and protection spells on Sam and then the protection spell on Jason, they'd prepared to face and storm a nearly impenetrable gate only to have it swing open as though awaiting their arrival. It was uncanny and Horace felt a shiver of apprehension ghost up and down his spine. Surely this did not bode well for them.

Jason strode forward, toward the sound of a cheering crowd. His black robes ebbed and flowed about his ankles. Horace wheezed as he rushed to keep up with the young wizard. They were trailed by Sam and a softly swearing Alma.

They followed the ever increasing sound of chanting to what appeared to be a stadium. Jason elbowed his way through the crowd, toward the front of whatever event was taking place. A sense of foreboding filled him with anxiety as he forced his way through the entranced crowd. Slowly, he began to understand the chant which had been taken up by the frantic throng. A single word of the chant tore through him, like a lance to his heart: Spinelli.

What the hell was going on and what the fuck was that flying above a dark-haired speck of a human cowering at the edge of a pointed rock? Surely dragons only existed in fairytales. No way was that ungainly creature bellowing forth smoke and dripping fire real. Must be a trick of magic.

Terror slammed itself into his heart and he clutched at the railing which kept him and the rest of the crowd from encroaching upon the events playing out before his eyes. Could that dark-haired youth cringing beneath something which could not possibly exist really be Spinelli? If the chanting of the crowd around him were to be believed, it was.

He held his breath as the dragon lunged at the diminutive figure and let out a relieved sigh when the boy leapt out of the way. Unfortunately, the dragon flicked its wicked tail and caught the youth in the middle with one of its sharp barbs, sending him crashing to his knees. What the hell was the point of this? What was going on? What had Spinelli gotten himself into now? How the hell was he going to get him out of it?

He made to vault the thin rail and join the boy in his fight against the dragon, only to find that some invisible barrier held him back. _Fuck. Hang in there Spinelli_ , he thought as his eyes remained riveted on the noticeably injured boy whose considerably pale face was lit up by yet another blast of orange flames which licked at the air above him. Sweat swathed his countenance, and though it had changed since he'd last seen him, Jason knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it was indeed Spinelli who was, for some inexplicable reason, standing before a dragon, blood weeping from a grievous wound to his belly.

"Spinelli!" His shout was lost amidst the shouts of the cheering throng and yet it seemed as though the boy's head turned minutely in his direction as though he sensed his mentor's presence.

His shout was silenced by a great booming sound as Spinelli's voice, somehow amplified, cut through that of the crowd's growing mantra of: "Spinelli! Spinelli! Spinelli! Take the dragon down!"

Spellbound, the audience held their collective breath as Spinelli's voice, tremulous at first, coursed through them. Steadily, his voice grew in potency as he sang. Each word echoing in the very heart of each individual present as it pumped through their veins.

He let out an almost derisive snort of laughter as he recognized the song that Spinelli was singing, "Puff the Magic Dragon". What the hell was the boy thinking? Maybe he'd cracked his skull somewhere along the way before he'd arrived to witness it. Certain that he'd finally found Spinelli only to see him suffer a far worse death than that which had been previously faked, Jason attempted to hurdle the railing once more only to be tossed back by the hidden barrier.

"Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff…" Spinelli sang and Jason could only watch in abject horror as the dragon made another sweep with its lethally barbed tail. Yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the looming evisceration of his friend who'd stuck closer to him than a brother on many occasions.

"Oh Puff the magic dragon, lived by the sea…" Spinelli was somehow still standing, the dragon's tail having missed him by mere millimeters.

The crowd remained silent, watching the boy, waiting for him to fall. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a young bushy-haired girl, clinging to the rail as though her life depended upon it, smiling grimly as she mouthed the words to the song along with the now wavering boy.

Standing on a pinnacle of jutting rock, gut bleeding copiously from the wound he'd sustained when the Swedish Short-Snout had rent him open with a solitary lash of her tail, he recalled the song he'd committed to memory and the words to the charm Harry and Hermione had taught him. Steeling himself against the searing pain of his injury, he took a deep, shuddering breath and uttered the words of charm which amplified his voice.

All other sound ceased save for that of his own voice and the heavy breathing of beast whose nest lay just over the horizon of the next rock, just a few feet away. He felt an inexorable pull toward the audience he knew lay beyond the dragon's lair and his eyes lingered momentarily on the spectators who crowded the railing which kept them out of harm's way.

At first he couldn't make out any distinguishable figures in the mass of people, but then, his eyes lit upon the familiar, somehow comforting outline of Hermione and then upon another figure directly to her left – Professor Snape. He beheld the startling dark eyes of the harsh, imposing man and was floored by the depth of some unnamable swirling emotion within them. Perhaps Hermione had been right after all and this dark man was his father.

The notes he sang became warbled as he contemplated the ramifications should it be revealed that Snape, the dastardly bat of the dungeons, was his father. He was so focused on his introspection, that he was very nearly sliced open yet again by the still circling dragoness as her tail whipped at his mid-section. Before he refocused his attention on the onerous task set before him, his eyes fell upon another individual who was familiar only in his unfamiliarity.

The man's face held a look of unabashed concern. Worry lines creased his brow and were etched around the corners of his firm mouth. His blue eyes pierced through Spinelli, though the man was several yards away and Spinelli wondered that he could make out the cerulean shade of blue from such a distance.

The eyes sparked something within him and he knew on some instinctual level that this man was someone he could trust, and there was something niggling him at the back of his mind, telling him that he knew this stranger, maybe even loved him as a something like a brother. But he didn't have a brother, did he? Shaking himself from these odd musings, he turned his attention to the dragon once more.

His breath caught in his throat and he panicked as he searched his mind for the next verse. Was the dragon's flight becoming slightly more erratic? Was she succumbing to the music, allowing it to lull her into a temporary repose?

"His head was bent in sorrow; green scales fell like rain…"

Were the dragon's eyes fluttering closed? Another half-hearted puff of smoke escaped her partially parted lips and she made another half rotation around his head as he sang, "Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave…"

She landed on a rocky protrusion a few feet below where Spinelli stood and yawned. A gust of tawny air billowed from her gaping mouth as her scaled eyelids drooped. She circled sleepily as though trying to find a good spot to lie down upon. She kept one ear cocked toward Spinelli's crooning voice, and one eye on him. She curled up like a dog, resting her enormous head upon her massive shoulders and let out what could only be described as a contented sigh.

Her wary, watchful eye slipped shut as Spinelli sang the chorus once more, painstakingly working his way toward her now unguarded nest. The hand not clutching his wand was pressed tightly to the steadily leaking wound on his stomach.

Though the summoning charm was on his lips, he didn't wish to cease singing lest the dragon be roused from her peaceful sleep. So, he kept singing, making up words now as he'd sung the chorus thrice over and, though he doubted the dragon would find it to be overly redundant, it was lulling his aching body into a state of almost hypnosis.

"Sleep, sleep Swedish Short-Snout dragon, sleep until I reach my goal…"

When he reached the mammoth-sized nest made of giant twigs, whole patches of bright, lively-colored swatches of cloth, and bits of stone, he gazed in wonder at the stark beauty of it. Shivering from blood loss and the now, thankfully fireless, yet cool night air that swirled around him, he took a faltering step forward. Kneeling at the base of the nest, he kept up his nonsensical singing and removed the hand staunching the now sluggish flow of blood from the gash in his stomach and reached out to touch the hard won golden egg with a bloodied hand, marking it as his own before he pulled it to himself and succumbed to the soothing pull of darkness as he lost consciousness.

He remained blissfully unaware of the burst of applause and raucous cheering that spilled forth from the mob when he'd retrieved the prize he'd been abandoned into the arena to attain. They let out the collective breath they'd been holding and remarked to one another what an amazing show it had been. How they'd never seen anything quite like it and how brave the unknown young wizard had been.

Rita Skeeter's quill was writing like mad, barely able to keep up with her thoughts, smoke fairly flew from the page. Surely none of the other champions could compete with such a great showing. Though he'd no doubt lose points due to his injury and seeming frozen state at the beginning, she knew that after today, he'd been marked as a hero, not unlike Harry Potter.

Grinning mischievously as various headlines pitting one boy against the other popped into her mind, she continued to write out the tale of how Spinelli, the boy who would one day defeat Harry Potter, lulled dragons to sleep with his angelic voice. She barely noted the marks he'd received from the judges, though her quill had faithfully recorded them without missing a beat: 8 – Bagman; 10 – Dumbledore; 9 – Crouch; 9 – Maxine; 7- Karkaroff.

Sitting back to watch as the unconscious boy was levitated from the field and the still sleeping dragon was removed to be replaced by the next dragon, she wondered if any of the remaining champions would be able to come close to putting on the amazing show Spinelli had. She somehow doubted it.

Jason felt tears of pride and fear prick the back of his eyes when the boy triumphantly plucked the golden egg from the nest only to collapse in the next moment. He tensed for a moment, wondering if the boy, his boy, was still alive when cheers and whoops of victory pulsed through him as the crowd celebrated Spinelli's victory. They only stilled for a moment when the scores were announced, booing when Karkaroff's score was read.

Jason watched as Spinelli's still body was levitated and he followed the progression of the young man with his eyes, shrugging off the hand that tried to hold him back as he began to work his way through the crowd to where Spinelli's body was being directed. He was oblivious to the people he passed, heedless of the imposing impression he left in the wake of his swirling robes. The crowd fairly fled, parting like the Red Sea before the Israelites, as he strode through their midst, never taking his eyes from the boy he'd come to rescue.

If Spinelli died from the injuries he'd sustained in his fight with the dragon, what the hell kind of people set students against dragons, anyway, there was no doubt in his mind that the first official use of his magic would be to commit mass murder. He could feel said magic stirring within him like some suffused energy long bottled up within him, desirous of release.

The air visibly crackled around Jason and Horace struggled to keep up with the angry strides of the singularly focused young man. He'd attempted to forestall the mobster, but had been unable to keep hold of him. The body-binding curses he'd been casting at the man's back seemed to be absorbed by him and only served to add to the increasing magical energy being emitted from the man.

He was unduly impressed with how the crowd parted before Jason and only frowned in concern when he noted that the path they were taking led directly to the first aid tent that had been set up for the champions. As soon as they'd made their way onto the grounds, he'd realized what was happening, that the Tri-Wizard Tournament had been reestablished for some reason unfathomable to himself and that somehow Spinelli had become a part of it.

If he had been chosen to be a champion, there was no way he'd be able to get out of it. Once chosen, a champion had to participate in the tournament until it was finished or he or she died. He knew that convincing Jason of this, however, would be a monumental task. He almost wished that he could face a dragon rather than the determined young man who had made his way to the first aid tent and had only paused at the entrance because Albus Dumbledore had been able to forestall him.

If he had met with any other wizard, there was no doubt in Horace's mind that Jason would have, not only made his way into the tent, but also been even now carting his friend out of it and off Hogwart's grounds. From the frown on Dumbledore's face, he knew it was only a matter of time before Jason was in the tent and at the boy's side.

Taking a deep breath, he reached Jason's side and nodded at Dumbledore, hoping that his wife and Sam would be there soon. He did not wish to face off against an angry Dumbledore on his own. He knew that the elder wizard would not take it lightly that, not only had he and Alma blown their cover in Port Charles, but had also carted two of the residents closely tied to the young man he'd invested much time and resources into retrieving along with them.

Albus' blue eyes pierced into his and he felt the man's anger beneath the surface of his benign countenance as he spoke calmly to Jason, assuring him that Spinelli would be just fine. From Jason's taut stature, Horace knew that until the young man saw Spinelli with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe a word Dumbledore said.

"Albus," Horace said by way of greeting. He puffed out his chest, unwilling to be cowed by the formidable wizard who was all but glaring at him. "I see you've met Jason Morgan, Spinelli's roommate from Port Charles."

"Yes," the single syllable held a note of tension though it was spoken mildly. "Though it somehow escapes me how Mr. Morgan managed to find our school and how he's come to be outside of his hometown."

"Yes, well," Horace cleared his throat, "you see…"

"I came here to get Spinelli," Jason cut in; he'd had enough of the old man's stalling.

Brushing the man's arm aside, he ducked under the flap of the first aid tent and rushed to Spinelli's side when a groan of pain reached his ears. He started briefly when he saw the same girl he'd stood next to at the railing holding one of Spinelli's blood-stained hands in her own. Tears coursed down her cheeks and he stood there hesitantly before reaching out to take Spinelli's other hand in his own calloused hands.

A dour-looking man stood at the foot of the floating gurney that Spinelli lay upon. His black eyes flicked briefly to Jason's face before once more resuming their intense examination of Spinelli. A flurry of sound caught his attention and Jason thought he could hear the tail end of a curse as the man's robes billowed and he ushered a much younger looking Maxie and some blonde-haired, pinch-faced boy into the tent.

Maxie all but bristled as she bumped into the other girl, trying to loose her grasp on Spinelli's hand, having to content herself with sharing the hand with the other girl when Spinelli's grip could not be loosened. He gave the disheveled looking girl a measuring look and smiled tersely as he noted her resolve to stick by Spinelli's side.

"Spinelli," his voice sounded thick in his ears and he coughed to clear it.

His eyes searched the face of the boy who lay stretched out on a makeshift gurney before him. It was Spinelli and yet, he had somehow been changed. He appeared to be vastly younger than what he'd been when he'd last seen him. How the hell was that even possible? Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. He blinked and turned away to face the old, white-bearded man while a matronly woman flicked a stick here and there and somehow managed to clean the blood from Spinelli's hands and stomach and bind up the wound so that only a thin, silvery scar remained in its wake.

"What the hell did you do to him?" He demanded.

Albus cleared his throat. "Perhaps we ought to discuss this elsewhere." He nodded suggestively at the girls and the young boy who were now scrutinizing the exchange with an intense curiosity and at the prone boy lying between them.

Spinelli's eyes flickered open and he looked from Jason to the girls standing beside him to the elderly wizard who smiled sadly at him. His eyes once more landed on Jason and he coughed. A cup of water was thrust to his lips, Jason hoisted him up gently and he drank deeply of the cool, soothing liquid. His throat felt as though it was on fire and his head ached, but he felt victorious as he remembered the events which had landed him in the first aid tent.

"How did I do?" He asked around another cough.

"Splendidly, my dear boy," Dumbledore said with enthusiasm. His eyes were sparkling as Spinelli sought out his approval. "I do believe that you may come out with the highest marks."

Severus stifled a caustic remark, doubting very much that it would be appreciated by the man who was holding his son's hand in a death grip. He'd never been so proud, angry and worried in his entire life as had been when he'd watched his son face that dragon. Marks be damned, his son was alive and whole and that was all that mattered.

He wanted to reach out and touch him to verify it for himself, his eyes not being sufficient enough to satisfy him, but knew that his touch would be unwelcome. Even so, those green eyes, sought his out and he couldn't help but give a tiny, tight smile of support in return. The smile that graced his son's lips in return sent his head reeling and he had to hold onto the edge of the instrument table to keep from falling under the weight of his son's loving smile.

God he hoped that his features gave nothing away. It would not be good were Spinelli to believe that he really was his father. He had to somehow get his son's suspicions off of him. Though it pained him to do so, he turned a scathing scowl on his son and new small satisfaction when Spinelli's smile faltered and he looked away.

"Are you okay?" The man with the startlingly blue eyes that he remembered from the crowd asked him and Spinelli reluctantly turned away from Professor Snape.

"Y…yes," he stuttered wondering if he should know the man who was holding onto his hand as though fearful he would vanish before his very eyes. "Who're you?"

Jason's heart clenched at the question, but he smiled down at Spinelli as he answered, "A good friend."

He was unaware of the audience that had gathered around them as Alma and Sam joined them and another champion was brought into the tent to be tended to, followed by his friends. He was content to watch Spinelli breathe.

"Oh," Spinelli's face wrinkled in confusion.

He felt that he should know this man, yet he couldn't call up any memories of his face and he could see that it caused the other man pain not to be recognized. He wished he could take the pain away, but wouldn't lie about something that seemed so important to the man who'd introduced himself as a friend.

"My name's Jason," he supplied.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Spinelli said around a yawn.

In spite of the wound being healed, he was extremely exhausted and, though he wanted to keep his eyes open, wanted to learn more about this man, he simply couldn't. He gave into his need to sleep, oblivious to the worried looks of those surrounding him.


	27. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is not happy.

Rita Skeeter stood outside the hospital tent, eagerly waiting for the champions to emerge. Had it not been for Mad-Eye Moody's intervention, she would have pushed her way inside the tent to get the interviews she needed. As it was, she was standing outside, facing a very dour looking Moody. Even her best smile was not working on the gruff man. She twisted her curly hair around her finger and batted her eyelashes at the obstinate man. Nothing.

_Well, two can play at this game_ , she thought, and, narrowing her eyes, she turned on her heel and slipped off toward a quiet place near the school where she took a quick look around to make sure she was alone before muttering a simple spell and returning to the tent. She smiled to herself as she snuck beneath a tent fold and could not believe her good fortune at the chaos she beheld within. This was going to be groundbreaking news!

"Mr. Morgan," Dumbledore was confronting a man Rita had never had the pleasure of meeting before. If she had, she would certainly have remembered those broad shoulders, glacial blue eyes set in a handsome, bronzed face, and clear-cut muscles barely concealed beneath the black robes that he wore.

She fanned herself and blushed. Momentarily stunned by the man's beauty, she missed the heated exchange, but wasn't too concerned as her quill caught everything independently of her. It was a good thing that she had spelled her quill to take notes as, when she finally returned to the conversation, words were flying too fast for her to keep up.

She was giddy with excitement, certain that she would be the only newsperson to get this particular juicy bit of information as all of the other reporters had been ushered to a separate tent where the champions would presumably be brought after they had recovered from the first task. It had been quite a remarkable event to witness. She had been impressed with each of the young wizards' efforts, but the youngest two wizards, Damian Spinelli and Harry Potter, had been particularly exciting to watch. It had been touch-and-go for a while, and she, along with the majority of the spectators feared that they would die. It had been thrilling, and she'd almost been disappointed at the turnout.

"I don't care what you have to do, just return him," Mr. Morgan was shouting now, gesturing at the sleeping form of Damian Spinelli.

"Do hold your voice down Mr. Morgan," Professor McGonagall hissed, casting a pointed look at the sleeping boy. "I understand that you are upset, but this is neither the time nor the place to have this sort of discussion." She looked around the tent, her eyes narrowing as they passed over the spot where Rita was hiding.

Rita let out a relieved sigh when the professor gave no indication that she had spotted her. The austere woman was a master at transfiguration and an animagus herself.

"You took him from everything and everyone he cared about, without giving him a choice, without giving him the chance to say goodbye," Mr. Morgan's voice cracked and Rita could feel his ill-suppressed anger as his inherent magic flared and crackled in the air around them. "And now he doesn't even recognize me. What the hell did you do to him?"

"Mr. Morgan," McGonagall sounded scandalized as she chastised the man, "do watch your language, there are impressionable ears around."

"I understand your frustration young man," Dumbledore said with his characteristic calm, "perhaps, for the sake of the children," he looked at each child in turn, peering at Mr. Morgan over the top of his glasses, "we ought to continue this discussion in another location, one away from curious ears and eyes."

"Fine, but we're going to take Spinelli with us," Mr. Morgan said through a clenched jaw, "I'm not letting him out of my sight. You stole him from me once, made me believe he was dead," his voice cracked, "I won't allow you to do that again."

"I do apologize for that," Dumbledore's voice was apologetic, "the deception was, I am afraid, necessary." He laid a hand on Mr. Morgan's shoulder which the younger man immediately shook off.

"There was nothing else that could have been done," Professor Snape intervened when it looked like Mr. Morgan was going to gather Spinelli up in his arms and stride out of the tent.

"I will not leave unless Spinelli comes with us," Mr. Morgan repeated himself.

"I give you my word," Dumbledore held out a hand which Mr. Morgan stared at apprehensively before taking, "that, while we talk in the privacy of my office, no harm will come to young Master Spinelli. When we finish our discussion, I will take you to him myself."

"Fine," Mr. Morgan agreed and followed the Headmaster out of the tent, casting one last look at Spinelli who had remained asleep throughout the entire exchange.

"Ms. McCall, Horace, Alma, perhaps you'd best come too, I trust that you've taken the necessary steps to ensure that Ms. McCall will be able to see and traverse the halls of Hogwarts," Dumbledore spoke to the married couple who were looking steadfastly at their feet.

Horace nodded, blushing considerably as he met the Headmaster's twinkling eyes. "Yes sir, we have, uh, Jason, er Mr. Morgan it seems is a wizard."

"I know my dear boy," Dumbledore chuckled, shaking his head, "his outburst of accidental magic was hard to miss." He gestured toward his glasses, which upon closer inspection, Rita could see had been cracked.

She wondered when that had happened, and swore under her breath. That would have been quite a sight to witness. Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, and for something like that to happen, well, that was simply extraordinary, and most definitely newsworthy.

Rita made to follow the odd grouping as they left the tent, but found that she could not. She glared after the departing wizards and mused at the dark-haired beauty who'd been addressed as Ms. McCall. Was she with the mysterious Mr. Morgan? If so, Rita definitely had her work cut out for her if she wanted to win the young man's heart.

"Blimey, what do you suppose that was about?" Ronald Weasley asked.

He ran a hand through his untidy red hair as he watched the group of wizards and lone Muggle leave the tent. He, Hermione, Draco and Maxie were standing at the flap of the tent even though they'd been told to leave. Though they had been as quiet and discrete as possible, Ron knew that their deception had not gone unnoticed.

The quartet moved to stand between the cots where Harry and Spinelli were lying, whispering to each other about what they'd just witnessed. Rita scooted closer to overhear what they were saying.

"Did you recognize those people?" Draco asked Maxie.

"Yes," she replied, biting her bottom lip.

It had been more and more difficult for her to hold onto her memories of life in Port Charles as she adjusted to life at Hogwarts and to magic. There really was nothing quite like magic and it thrilled her that she was a real witch and that magic was real and that she could wield its power. It was invigorating and intoxicating. She never wanted to go back to her former life, and that thought scared and saddened her even as she felt her current life fill in a lot of missing pieces. She had never felt whole until she had followed after Spinelli and discovered magic.

"Jason Morgan, Spinelli's roommate, you know, when he was older, before he was deaged, and Sam McCall, Jason's girlfriend," Maxie supplied.

"Wait a minute," Draco whirled on Maxie, his voice rising slightly as he confronted the young witch, "what do you mean deaged?"

"Oh crap!" Maxie clapped a hand over her mouth and frantically looked around the tent, eyes searching fervently for any eavesdroppers.

Hermione's mouth fell open and Ron blinked in surprise as he looked back and forth between Maxie and Spinelli, correctly surmising that if one of the newcomers had been deaged, the other had as well.

Rita could not believe her luck. She smiled to herself, silently crowing in delight at what she'd heard. Damian Spinelli and Maxie Jones were not, in actuality, true fourteen year olds. That might very well explain how Damian's name had been submitted to the goblet, but, unless Harry Potter had been deaged as well, and she knew that wasn't possible, it still didn't explain his entry into the tournament.

"Wow, so, wow," Ron said, still unable to fully comprehend what Maxie had inadvertently let slip.

"You realize what this means, don't you?" Hermione asked in a hushed whisper, looking at each of them in turn, ignoring Draco when he rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

"No Granger, what does this mean?" Draco sneered.

Honestly, the girl really was an insufferable know-it-all. It was obvious to Draco that Spinelli's name could have been entered into the goblet by anyone without the use of any dark magic whatsoever, because the goblet was not fooled by aging potions.

"This means that…"

"Spinelli could've entered his name into the goblet after all," Ron supplied, his earlier ire completely forgotten in the face of a new mystery.

"No," Hermione hissed, hitting him in the shoulder.

Ron winced and rubbed at the sore spot. For such a small witch, she could sure pack a punch.

"I mean, technically, yes, he could have," Hermione corrected, lowering her voice as she realized that she was speaking quite loudly in her excitement, "but you all heard how insistent he was that he hadn't and…"

"Merlin forbid that a noble Gryffindor lie," Draco finished with a nasty curl of his lips.

"Honestly Draco, why are you here?" Hermione pinned him with a heated glare.

"I'm Ms. Jones' escort," Draco responded, puffing out his chest with an air of self-importance. "Besides, Snape said that I had to keep an eye on her," he said, his chest slightly deflating as he admitted that he was little more than a glorified babysitter to the young American witch.

Ron didn't bother to stifle his laugh. "You two are perfect for each other," he said between laughs which nearly had him doubled over.

"Hey weasel," Draco's voice dripped with disdain, "you and that champion from Durmstrang, what's his name, seem to be getting rather friendly with each other. Seen you two sitting together in the library. You fancy your Quidditch hero or something? You do make a cute couple," Draco taunted.

Ron's whole body seemed to go red in the split second it took him to lunge for Draco's throat. Draco stumbled back, falling to the ground heavily as Ron attacked him, hitting him square in the jaw.

"Ronald!"

Hermione pulled at her friend, trying to get him away from Draco who was cowering on the ground, the smug look he'd been wearing as he taunted Ron was displaced by one of wide-eyed terror. In any other circumstance, Hermione might have laughed, but, as it was, she was mildly surprised by the rancor with which Ron was attacking Draco.

Could there have been some truth to what the blonde Slytherin had insinuated? Was Ron interested in the Viktor Krum as more than just a fan? Hermione blushed at the thought of the two of them together and shook her head to clear it of the images that it brought up. She, with the help of a similarly shocked Maxie, managed to pull Ron off Draco whose nose was dripping blood and whose face would be sporting a rather vicious-looking bruise in a couple of hours.

"We should probably get you to Madame Pomphrey," Hermione stated as she held a hand out to Draco who flinched back rather dramatically. "Honestly Malfoy, I'm not going to hex you or anything."

"Here Draco." Maxie held out her hand to the boy who'd been more of a burden to her than anything else, and he took it. She hauled him to his feet and looked him over assessing his injuries. She winced in sympathy as she placed a hand on his bruising cheek.

"This has gotten out of hand," Hermione stated the obvious causing both Draco and Ron to glare at her.

"I'd say," Harry's voice startled them as he sat up in the cot, stretching and yawning. "What happened?"

"Malfoy," Ron spat the name out as he pointed at the blonde who was shaking like a leaf.

Ron's body was practically vibrating with anger, his features still colored by a heated red as he glared daggers at the Slytherin who was looking at the ground, grasping Maxie's hand in a painful grip.

Rita rolled her eyes at the dramatics. Teenagers were always full of emotions which were wasted on them. She wanted to hear what the Granger girl had to say about what the deaging meant, but it looked like that conversation, thanks to the knockdown drag out fight between the two boys was over. No matter, she had more than enough information for front-page news. She left the tent without a backward glance and went to wait with the other reporters in the tent which had been cordoned off for them.

"Oh," Harry said, scratching at his head.

He was confused. He'd been sleeping peacefully, dreaming of his success in stealing the golden egg from the Horntail dragon when shouting and the sounds of a scuffle woke him.

"What about Malfoy?" he asked, searching around for his glasses which Hermione thankfully handed to him. He looked at the other boy and was momentarily taken aback at the bloody nose and bruised cheek.

"He…he," Ron couldn't even formulate the words as he took gasping breaths.

He didn't know exactly what he felt about Krum, just that the Seeker was his hero and he liked talking with him. The Durmstrang student was neither conceited nor condescending. He seemed to like talking with Ron as well.

"He insinuated that Ron," Maxie spoke up for the still sputtering boy, "is gay."

Harry's jaw dropped and he looked at his best friend who turned even redder under his friend's scrutiny. He searched out Hermione for answers and she shook her head minutely even as she pointed her wand at Malfoy's nose and muttered a quick and effective, "Epipsky."

Draco reached up a hand to touch his tender nose, and was grateful that, as annoying as she was, Hermione was a good spell caster. Had Weasley attempted to fix his nose, he would no doubt end up in the hospital wing for weeks.

"Thank you," Draco said quietly and Hermione nodded.

"Look, since it's obvious that, while Jones continues to hang out with us, Malfoy is going to be accompanying her, I think that we need to put aside our petty jealousies and arguments and call a truce," Hermione said.

Ron glared at her, but his features were beginning to return to their normal color. Draco glared as well, lifting his chin haughtily.

"Ron," Hermione snapped at the other boy who looked at his feet, "it doesn't matter what Malfoy, or anyone else thinks. We're," she gestured to Harry, herself and Spinelli who was beginning to stir, "your friends and you can trust us with anything."

"There's nothing going on," he insisted.

"Draco," Maxie turned on the Slytherin who was leaning against her, "you should apologize to Ron."

Though she'd done far worse in her life than what Draco had, she didn't want to be cut off from Spinelli's life, even though the memory of her former life was slipping away little-by-little as each day passed. She felt that as long as she stuck by Spinelli she could retain some of her memory, and in spite of her love of magic and Hogwarts, she didn't want to forget certain aspects of life in Port Charles: her sister Georgie, her Uncle Mac, Kate Howard… she fingered the locket around her neck thoughtfully.

Draco sputtered. "What? Why? He's the one who hit me and broke my nose!"

"I'll apologize if you do," Ron offered. Now that he had cooled off some, he realized that he had acted rashly and that he had done more damage to his reputation than Draco had.

"Fine, sorry for implying that you and Krum were a couple," Draco said snidely.

"And I'm sorry for breaking your nose, you git," Ron said heatedly, reaching out his hand for Draco to shake.

"Something tells me that the Jackal missed something important," Spinelli said as he sat up. He looked from Ron to Draco and then from Hermione to Harry.

"Oh it's nothing," Hermione said. She sat on the edge of Spinelli's cot and Ron sat at the edge of Harry's.

"So, what did we miss?" Harry asked. He was not mollified by Hermione's non-answer.

"Oh, only an argument between the Headmaster and your mysterious visitor," Draco said, warming up to the subject now that his nose had stopped throbbing and he'd had a moment to clean the blood from his face.

Maxie sat on the other side of Spinelli and Draco looked around for a place to sit before resigning himself to sit next to Weasley. If his father could see him now, he'd be hauled out of the tent by his ear.

"So, Maxie told us that you were deaged," Hermione didn't waste any time on pleasantries.

Spinelli's heart raced as he feared what Professor Snape would do to him and Maxie now that word had gotten out about them. He gave the blonde girl an accusatory look and she quickly looked away.

"I didn't mean to, it kind of just slipped out," she said, biting her bottom lip in shame.

"Don't worry Spinelli, no one else knows, the others were out cold, just like you and Harry," Hermione assured the panicked looking boy.

"It's just, no one is supposed to know."

"I'm sorry," Maxie said, her eyes pleading with Spinelli to forgive her.

"The Jackal knows." Spinelli smiled to ease his friend's anxiety even though he was fearful of what would happen if word accidentally made it outside of the six of them. He shivered as he pictured Snape's face filled with fury.

"You see, as I was trying to say earlier," Hermione said, glaring at Draco and Ron who were seated side-by-side next to Harry. Both boys hung their heads sheepishly.

"This means that your name could've been entered into the goblet by anyone, even yourself, as the goblet uses powerful magic to determine true age, as evidenced by the twins who foolishly attempted to trick the goblet by temporarily aging themselves. I assume that you and Maxie were permanently deaged as opposed to temporarily, though," Hermione said all in a single breath.

Spinelli and Harry both felt as though their ears were ringing with the effort it took for them to keep up with her speech.

"But, the Jackal swears he did not enter his name into the goblet, and besides, that does not explain how the equally maligned honorable Harry's name was entered," Spinelli puzzled out aloud.

"I know." Hermione nodded, resting a hand on his arm. Maxie reached out to touch his other arm, and Spinelli blushed. He was suddenly uncomfortable.

"Your being deaged also means," Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper as Madame Pomphrey neared the group, "that your magic is extremely powerful because, most wizards and witches do not survive the process." She finished with a smile, not understanding why everyone else around her looked horrified.

"You mean that, whoever did this to them, risked their lives to make them younger?" Harry blurted out angrily.

He was angry on his friend's behalf. He liked Spinelli and was glad that the boy had been sorted into Gryffindor.

Hermione blinked and mouthed, "Oh," as she realized the opposite side of the coin meant that both Spinelli and Maxie could have died. She had truthfully only seen the positive side of things, considering that both of them had clearly survived the process.

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Ron asked.

He was seeing Spinelli in a new light after his nearly deathly encounter with a dragon and also after what he'd witnessed the argument in the tent shortly after the dark-haired boy had passed out, exhausted. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like to have been forcibly taken from his home without being given the opportunity to say goodbye to his family. And then to be experimented on with a deaging potion that very well might have killed him. Ron shivered in horror as he thought about it.

"It has everything to do with everything," Hermione said in exasperation.

"You mean that we could have died?" Maxie asked in a small, frightened voice. She had not been told that.

Hermione nodded sagely. She had found the potion in an obscure potions journal and found the potion to be particularly barbaric. There was only one wizard she knew who could brew such a potion perfectly and two who could administer it properly – Professor Snape and Dumbledore.

"You don't think they want us dead?" Maxie turned to Spinelli, her blue eyes wide and filled with tears.

"The Jackal does not believe that the Kindly, albeit somewhat Dark Wizard and White Beard," a new nickname that seemed well-suited for Dumbledore rolled off the tip of his tongue, "want either of us dead. If they did, I believe we would already be dead."

"That's not really a comforting thought," Maxie said, hugging herself.

"Especially considering that someone put Spinelli's name in the goblet," Ron added. He was now fully supportive of the Gryffindor who'd been uprooted from his home.

"Ron, you're not helping," Hemione hissed as Madame Pomphrey gave them a curious look.

"Neither Professor Snape nor Professor Dumbledore would kill Spinelli or Jones," Hermione said with conviction.

Harry didn't look convinced; he'd had far too many encounters with an angry Snape to believe that the man was above committing homicide. Professor Dumbledore, though, Harry couldn't imagine the genial wizard killing anyone.

"I think we're all forgetting what that man, what was his name? said." Draco looked at Maxie.

"Jason Morgan," she supplied.

"After you'd passed out," Draco smirked at Spinelli, "Morgan accused the Headmaster of faking your death."

"And what does that prove Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"It proves that the Headmaster is capable of deception, which means that he is also capable of killing someone if it serves to further his agenda," Malfoy replied.

"And what about Snape?" Ron countered.

His heart sank as he already knew the answer to that. Snape was more than capable of killing someone. He'd proved that time and time again with his threats in class and the way he sometimes glared at miscreant students.

Draco snorted in response as he saw realization flicker across Ron's face.

"So," Hermione sighed, "while both wizards are capable of killing another wizard, I do not believe that either of them administered the deaging potion with the intent to kill. I mean, they must've known that both of you would survive the process, otherwise they would never have gone through with it."

"Shrewd Hermione's right," Spinelli spoke up in support of the girl, even though he still had some misgivings. He exchanged a look with Harry who shared a grimace with him.

Had the Kind dark wizard and the elderly White Beard truly known that they were strong enough to survive the potion? If the conversation that had taken place between the mystery man from his past and the Headmaster while he'd been sleeping had been correctly interpreted by the sly Slytherin, that would mean that the two had given both him and Fair Maximista the potion regardless of the potential outcome. They had been willing to risk killing them to make them younger.

But why? What possible purpose could this serve? Couldn't he and Maxie have both been just as easily trained in magic at their natural age?

"Why deage you?" Ron asked the question that he was thinking.

"It makes some sense," Draco spoke tentatively.

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"How?" Maxie asked.

She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she could have died. It was of little consolation to her that she was in fact very much alive. How could she trust the wizarding world if those in it valued her life so little?

"Had you used magic before? In the life that Mr. Morgan indicated you had been taken from?" Hermione clarified at the twin looks of confusion her first question had engendered.

"No," Spinelli answered, frowning as he shook his head. He couldn't remember his adult life at all, though he still thought he should remember the man who'd visited him in the tent shortly before he passed out. The memories he had of his childhood did not reveal any instances of magic, either purposeful or accidental.

"Right," Hermione plunged ahead, "so, I'm guessing that there was a block on your magic and that, in order for it to be broken, you had to be deaged."

"But why?" Spinelli asked.

"Because, the block on your magic stunted your magical growth and you need time to grow into your magic," Draco finished the explanation, simplifying it considerably.

"Grow into our magic?" Maxie questioned skeptically.

"And why fourteen?" Ron asked. "Why not eleven, when children are given their letters to attend Hogwarts?"

"Ron," Hermione sounded as though she was speaking to a young child as she spoke, "if you bothered to read outside of the required schoolbooks, you would know that most of the wizarding schools do not send out their letters until children are fourteen, it is considered the age of magical maturation, where a wizard or witch truly begins to understand their magic. There are some schools, however, where children get their letters when they are still in single digits. Their belief is that those children should not be subjected to the prejudices of the Muggle world."

"So, Professor Snape and Dumbledore deaged us so that we would come into our magical maturity?" Maxie summarized.

"Yes," Hermione answered, nodding.

"The real question though, is what does all of this have to do with Morgan and those people he was with?" Draco brought them back to current events.

"He seemed really pissed about what had happened," Ron spoke up.

"I think he's angry because Spinelli was one of his only true friends," Maxie said.

"We were friends? The Jackal and…and…" he searched his mind for an appropriate appellation, knowing instinctively that he called that man by a different name, but coming up completely blank.

"You called him Stone Cold," Maxie offered.

Spinelli's brow furrowed in confusion as he mulled the moniker over in his mind. He could picture the man's ice blue eyes clearly and shuddered in response. Yes, that sobriquet fit perfectly.

"Stone Cold?" He tried the nickname out and found that it rolled off his tongue easily and that it oddly brought peace and a sense of wholeness to him.

He missed this Stone Cold, a man he couldn't even remember, thanks to what the Kind dark wizard and White Beard had done to him and Maxie. He felt strangely bereft and wanted to confront the two wizards who'd placed his and Maxie's lives in danger without even giving them warning. They had played with their lives and it infuriated him. He could have died. Fair Maximista could have died. And apparently, everyone back where he had lived, thought he had died.

"You know," Maxie spoke softly, linking her fingers with Spinelli's, "when the doctors declared you dead, Jason, Stone Cold," she clarified, "kind of just shut down. He started drinking heavily and he started getting sloppy in his work. And in his line of work being sloppy can get you dead."

"Really?" Spinelli was intrigued.

He couldn't imagine anyone caring so much about him. It was somewhat unsettling.

"Really, and I, well, I refused to believe that you were dead too and ended up following you here. I think that I was deaged for another reason entirely though," Maxie confided, "you see, a wizard with an alternative agenda was interested in me, and Professor Dumbledore had me deaged to protect me, though he did not tell me it could kill me," she finished, her cheeks flushing with anger.

"And neither of them saw fit to explain anything to me," Spinelli's voice was barely above a whisper. "Other than the obvious, that I was deaged."

Both Hermione and Maxie hugged him, each giving the other a tiny glare that the boy could not see.

"I'm sorry Spinelli," Maxie said earnestly.

"The Jackal knows that Fair Maximista is not to blame for how things turned out," Spinelli responded, smiling.

"I wonder what is happening in the Headmaster's office," Draco said, effectively changing the subject which had taken a turn toward the morose.

"I'd like to be a bug on that wall," Ron agreed, grinning at Malfoy until he realized who it was he was sharing a grin with.

"Same here," Draco agreed, scowling when he realized that he'd been grinning at Ron like a loon.

"I've got a galleon that says Mr. Morgan ends up doing more than simply cracking the Headmaster's glasses," Hermione said, breaking the sudden tension that had descended upon the group. All five of them stared at her in open shock and she raised an eyebrow, shrugging.

"What?" she asked.

"But…but that's gambling," Ron sputtered.

"And?" she countered.

"And, you're Hermione," Ron replied as though that explained everything.

"Oh honestly Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at the gape-mouthed boy. "There's nothing wrong with making a little bit of a wager, who else wants in on this?"

"I'll take your bet," Draco said, eager to earn some money to supplement his weekly allowance, "except I think that Snape'll end up hexing Morgan out of sheer frustration for the man's obvious Gryffindor tendencies."

Harry grinned and shook his head. He was happy to have Ron back by his side and, though it was weird, he wasn't opposed to having Draco and Maxie added to their tight group.

"I guess I can put up a galleon," he said, "that Dumbledore will offer Morgan a lemon drop which he will refuse."

Draco groaned dramatically. "Potter, that's a given."

"Fine," Harry conceded. "A galleon says that Morgan will wreak havoc in the Headmaster's office."

"How about you Ron, you want in on this?" Hermione was already writing down their bets in a small, Muggle notebook.

He shook his head, embarrassed because he didn't have the money to make a bet.

"Come on, I'll loan you the money," Draco offered, nudging him with an elbow.

"Or I can loan you the money," Harry offered.

Hermione looked away, she felt terrible for putting Ron on the spot like that. She'd been caught up in the spirit of the moment and hadn't thought before she'd opened her mouth.

"Sorry Ron," she said.

"That's okay Hermione, with Harry and Draco both backing me, I can make two wagers." His grin was a little forced, but Harry's hand was on his shoulder, offering him unspoken support. "My money's on Morgan and Snape. Though, I think that Snape will take his side. I don't know if the rest of you saw the look of almost loathing that he gave the Headmaster when he was telling Morgan to leave, that Spinelli no longer needed him."

"Really?" Hermione looked thoughtful as she wrote Ron's wager in her notebook.

"Yeah, the way Morgan talked about you Spinelli," his gaze turned to the young man across from him, "you would've thought you were his son or something."

Spinelli's breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes, trying to remember every feature of the man who had come out of nowhere after he'd defeated the dragon. He had darkish blonde hair, eyes bluer than the sky and a strong, squarish jaw. His featured looked almost as though they'd been chiseled out of stone. There was no way that he could have been descended from perfection like that.

"How about you Maxie?" Hermione turned to her rival, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Maxie snorted. "Oh my money's definitely on Jason; you forget that I've seen him in action before. Though, well, in Port Charles he wasn't a wizard or anything like that. I wonder if Dumbledore will try to deage him?"

Her face twisted up in a look of pure mischief and she let loose a string of giggles as she imagined just what Jason would do if Dumbledore so much as suggested such a thing. As it was, she knew the man would respond rather violently when Dumbledore explained why Spinelli couldn't remember his mentor and why he looked so different.

"Spinelli?" Hermione turned to him.

She was a little more hesitant with him than she'd been with the others. She could tell that he was having a hard time dealing with what he'd learned.

"Um, I, that is the Jackal presumes that Stone Cold will no doubt be a fitting match, his purported anger for White Beard's omnipresent calm," he stated quietly, "put the Jackal down for Stone Cold."

He hoped that, no matter what happened and what was said in the Headmaster's office, that he would get to talk to the man again. Especially if what Ron had said, that the man spoke of him like he was a son, was true.

Even though he knew that this Stone Cold could not be possibly be his biological father, he wanted to know what it felt like to be loved so much that someone would give up everything to find him. The thought of it made him smile. Even if he never got to know his real father, it warmed his heart to know that there was someone out there who cared so much about him. He just wished that he could remember the man.


End file.
